The One Where the Curtains Won

We bought new curtains for our little apartment. Don't get me wrong, I love my husband, but he's, um, very busy. And it takes him a little while to get to household projects (cuz he LOVES him some household projects...). So yesterday I decided I will try! I can do this! All I have to do is find the drill, and charge it, and drill some holes, and get the curtains in, and, well, this can't be hard! Can it???

When I'm allowed near power equipment, it can be hard. It can.

I'll tell it in parts:

Part One: Paige versus the blinds brackets
I see that there are old blinds brackets on the inside of the windows, where I want to hang the new curtain holder hooks. So, I inspect them. And, upon inspection, decide that yes, I can unscrew the screws and get them down. Because they're In! The! Way! And I'm mighty Paige with the power drill! (I actually didn't have the power drill yet, cuz I hadn't figured out I'd want it. But that's not the point. I did have it later.) Twenty minutes, two very sore knees, and lots of sweat (yes, I can break a sweat unscrewing screws. Have you READ this blog?? I'm a tad overweight.) later, I've gotten the brackets out! I'm unstoppable! Go me! I'll just take a little break and get lunch ready. I mean, I can probably just screw these little hooks...
... oh...
wait.
Shit.
The hooks? they will not go in the back of the window. There's no wood there. It's all... metal. And, well, glass. Can't put them on the sides, cuz, well, they're hooks and you can't hang a curtain rod from sidways hooks. NO you cannot. So I must put the hooks- wait a minute here- on the OUTSIDE of the window.
If you remember correctly, the brackets that cost me blood, sweat, and tears (well, kinda) were on the INSIDE. They could have STAYED, where they would be covered by the CURTAINS.
total time: 25 minutes. 20 to take the brackets out, 5 to figure out I didn't actually need to take them out. And I'm just beginning.

Part two: Why Paige Doesn't DO Home Improvement
After a short break, I stick some lunch in the microwave and decide to just screw a screw or two into the outside of the window while I'm waiting for my lunch. I get up, kneel on counter.
crunch
shatter
explosion
Those sounds? They are of the -ahem- glass cutting board. The one sitting on my counter. The one I just kneeled on. Those sounds are of the glass cutting board shattering into a hundred trillion tiny glass pieces and exploding All. Over. My. Kitchen.
*doorknob shakes*
*knock knock*
I go and let my husband in the house.
Total time: thirty-five minutes. Nine to get lunch ready, one to have a cutting board explode.

Part Three: Someone Must Witness This Debacle, Mustn't They?

K: "Are you ok??" (how did he KNOW??!?!?!)
Me:"I'm fine, I shattered the cutting board."
K: "No, I mean I just saw two cops flying out of here" (Did I scare them off with the flying glass?).
Me: "I don't know what's going on out there. I"m trying to do this." (We live in a Very Small apartment complex. Even in the midst of shattering glass and furious swearing, I should have known there were cops here. Really.)
As I talk I'm trying to get down from counter and get the cat away from the glass she is trying to EAT. As if bleeding paws aren't enough, she wants her tongue to bleed.
K: grabs kitten and puts her in bathroom.
In the meantime, I make it down and look around in shock.
K: Grabs broom and tells me to put shoes on.
K: "Do you want to just leave this and come to the soccer game?" (after making it vaguely clear he doesn't particularly want me there).
Me: "No."(as I stand around looking at the glass. He's still sweeping.)
K: "What's wrong?" (he's still sweeping.)
Me: I'm. Having. A. Bad. Day. (I take the broom. Am fighting back tears. Must do something.)
K: "ok. I just don't know what's wrong with you. Are you mad at me about the game?"(His turn to stand and look.)
Me: "I'm. Having. A. Bad. Day." (More sweeping. And fighting back tears.)
K: "Are you alright? You gonna be ok?"
Me: "Yes. I'm. Having. A. Bad. Day."
Him: Ok. Well, I'm gonna go. I love you.
Me: love you too. Bye.
I don't want you to think he abandoned me. He had stopped home on the way to a soccer game to pick something up. He was rushing out. And I clearly wasn't helping much in the way of him figuring out what was wrong with me. Him leaving was good, cuz I needed to be alone.
To conquer the curtains. Or so I thought.
Total time: one hour, twenty minutes. 25 minutes of crying back tears and convincing my husband I am fine. Twenty minutes of cleaning up glass, sweeping and mopping floor.

Part Four: My New Nemesis, the Electric Drill.

Really, this is much funnier if you could have seen it. I promise. But I don't care. I've got to vent about it somewhere. And here, I have a captive audience. (ha ha ha...)

So. I take a break to eat lunch. The drill is now charged, ready to screw some screws in! And I'm ready to do the screwing (not THAT kind, getchur mind out of the gutter already.)

Alright. I decide where on the OUTSIDE of the window I want my screws to go for the rod. The CURTAIN rod, people. And I make two little holes. And I look for a hammerhead (you know, the kind with four lines instead of one? Like a little x? That's hammerhead, right? For some reason that name sounds wrong.) drill bit. Can't find one. I find a bit with the one line, decide that should work in the hammerhead (that name IS wrong, I know it! What are they called?) screws. So. I insert my screw onto my drill bit. It stays pretty good. I decide I'm good to go. Put the screw to my first little hole, hit the GO! Button on the drill. The screw goes flying. So I get off the counter, find the screw (IN the stovetop), climb back up, and try! again!

Attempts 2-10. Rinse above performance. Repeat. On try four, place hand to steady drill. Hit GO! Button. WHIP hand away as I realize that I have place my hand on the part of the drill that TURNS, burning a nice drillburn into my left hand. Greaaaaaaaaaaaat.

Finally I decide that I need to try something different. So I try a different hole. The lower one.

Attempts 11-20: Rinse above performance, in different hole. Repeat.

Alright. It's not working here. Closely inspect my first two holes- at some point the drill would hold steady, the screw would go in, I would sing praises to God, and then the screw would Stop! And Fly! So I'm inspecting my holes, and decide that there's some kind of metal behind them. (Christine, who was getting the play-by-play via e-mail on my breaks, asked "What metal is it? Is it a pipe, or a sheet? Cuz if it's just a sheet of metal, the drill should be able to get through that! Anyways, so, maybe if I just... er... move this here screw over to the right. That should be good

how the fucking hell am I supposed to know what the metal is from??? Do I look like someone who knows what she's doing???

Attempts 21-30. Rinse. Repeat.

You get the idea. I take a break to e-mail my Christine.

My husband comes home.

Total time: 2 hours. Approximately forty minutes of Paige trying the same thing that is clearly not working over, and over, and over again.

Part Five: Where Paige Decides She Will Never Attempt Home Improvements Again.

Khalil comes home. He listens to my tale of trauma, and says, let me give it a try. I couldn't bear to watch, because when he gets frustrated, man, there's yelling, and swearing, and it's ugly. So I stay in the other room. Hiding. Cuz I'm SURE he's going to get frustrated.

Ten minutes later he says, "Do you want to come put the curtains up?" Yeah..... he was done. It was wonderful.