Well, Dad, you were right again.
I'm in the midst of redecorating my apartment. When I say in the midst, I mean this project is actually interminable. I started in early January, when it was a good project to throw myself into in the wake of your death. And I'm sure there's a whole lot of obvious symbolism about nesting as a way to deal with grief and the loss of family.
But, this essay isn't about that. This essay is about the damn mirror I just tried to hang in the hallway. I've been tackling little bits of the apartment at a time. After a massive, I mean really massive, overhaul of the living room, that room is mostly done (with the exception of painting the walls, which Erica and I are going to do this weekend). But despite the fact that I spent no less than 45 minutes the other night trying to get the exact spatial ratio exactly perfect on the layout between a compass, a piece of a volcano from Iceland, an antique key from Ireland, and a round antique knife (yours, but I think originally Grandpa's) on my console table, there are swaths of the apartment that have still been entirely ignored and look like disaster areas. These include my bedroom, the hallway / entryway, kitchen, and bathroom. So, yeah, pretty much everything except the living room.
Today I decided to tackle the hallway. I got this great big desk with hutch from Restoration Hardware to be the centerpiece for when you open the door. It's damaged like crazy, but it was on super duper sale and I don't mind the scuffs -- it just looks antique. I put my old white bench to the right when you walk in, and the idea is to get a new runner rug and a pretty mirror to hang above the bench with nice hooks for coats on either side. But, I've used up all my money so for now I have to make do with what I have, which is a mirror with hooks on the bottom of it from Pottery Barn. It was already hanging in the entryway, but it's not centered over the bench and that was driving me crazy. I decided I'd hang the mirror in the right place and call it a day until I got an influx of new design budget and could get a nice new mirror and hooks.
I took the mirror down and discovered that it was hung by two screws spaced exactly 16 inches apart. I actually measured this distance, with an actual tape measure, rather than just eyeing it, which was a step above my usual technique. Score one for Amy. I went to get my drill, which didn't work. Upon opening the battery compartment I realized only 2 of the 4 required double A batteries were loaded. I vaguely remembered taking two of the batteries out to put them in something else. But what was that something else... I checked the remote -- nope, that takes triple A. I checked several drawers, and while I am apparently stockpiling triple A batteries for some future shortage, I don't have a single double A. It would take under 3 minutes to throw on shoes, run down the stairs, cross the street, ask the guy behind the counter at the bodega for two double A batteries, pay him, and run back up. Really, under three minutes. It's what I should have done. It's what you would have done.
But, it is not what I did. I can do this without a drill, I thought. Who needs a drill. I unscrewed the first screw that had been holding the mirror in using a regular Philips head screwdriver. The second one presented a challenge. It was stuck. I needed a drill. I opened a drawer and grabbed a different screw and left the stuck one sticking half out of the wall. This is a temporary measure until I get my nice new mirror and nice new hooks, I kept reminding myself. It's okay if I half ass it. I just need this stupid mirror centered over the bench so I feel centered when I walk in the door.
I eyed the center of the bench, rather than measuring it (there's only so much growth a person can experience), and started to screw the first screw in the wall. Or, rather, I tried. I really needed a drill. I started hammering it with the back of the screw driver. No go. I tried the other screw, which was sharper, and that seemed to go a little easier. I hammered it a bit, screwed it in a bit, then took it out and put in the less sharp screw. I got it about three quarters of the way in. Good enough. Measuring exactly 16 inches to the left, I put the second screw in. Again, I needed a damn drill. I was getting hot. I stripped off my sweater and stood on the bench to get better leverage. I got the screw about halfway in. Good enough. I picked the mirror up and tried to get it on -- put it first on the one screw, fine, then on the second, but it wouldn't catch, the screw wouldn't go into the stupid tiny screw hole. The screw was like one twentieth of an inch too far to the right. I pushed and pulled and fought and tried to force it and this whole time I see you shaking your head and I hear you saying "Amy. Amy. Amy."
It's fine! I say. It's fine it's fine! This is just a temporary measure until I get my nice new mirror. I just need this damn thing hanging centered right now! Just go and get a drill and measure it properly and do it right, you say. NO. I will not. I continue to fight, lose, and have to pull the screw out and move it about a twentieth of an inch over to the right. I can only get it about 3/8 of the way into the wall this time. Good enough. I'm sweating. I put the mirror on, it fits, great, done. Over. In the very, very back of my head you say that surely I don't actually believe that the screws that are hanging onto the wall by a thread are actually going to support the mirror and the coats I plan to hang off the hooks on the bottom of it, but I brush your doubts away. I got it, I'm fine.
I hang one coat, then a second. When I put the third coat on the hook, the mirror and all the coats come crashing down. But, of course, you already knew that would happen.
So, fine. I'll stop off and get some stupid batteries on the way home later and I'll do it the right way, the way I should have done it in the first place. And maybe one day I will learn that if you start out doing it the right way, then the three minutes that it would have taken to run to get the batteries would actually wind up saving about 3 hours in the end. But, I don't know, Dad, I've been this way a long time. As much as your voice lives in my head, I've never managed to be precise as you were.
love you
a
I'm in the midst of redecorating my apartment. When I say in the midst, I mean this project is actually interminable. I started in early January, when it was a good project to throw myself into in the wake of your death. And I'm sure there's a whole lot of obvious symbolism about nesting as a way to deal with grief and the loss of family.
But, this essay isn't about that. This essay is about the damn mirror I just tried to hang in the hallway. I've been tackling little bits of the apartment at a time. After a massive, I mean really massive, overhaul of the living room, that room is mostly done (with the exception of painting the walls, which Erica and I are going to do this weekend). But despite the fact that I spent no less than 45 minutes the other night trying to get the exact spatial ratio exactly perfect on the layout between a compass, a piece of a volcano from Iceland, an antique key from Ireland, and a round antique knife (yours, but I think originally Grandpa's) on my console table, there are swaths of the apartment that have still been entirely ignored and look like disaster areas. These include my bedroom, the hallway / entryway, kitchen, and bathroom. So, yeah, pretty much everything except the living room.
Today I decided to tackle the hallway. I got this great big desk with hutch from Restoration Hardware to be the centerpiece for when you open the door. It's damaged like crazy, but it was on super duper sale and I don't mind the scuffs -- it just looks antique. I put my old white bench to the right when you walk in, and the idea is to get a new runner rug and a pretty mirror to hang above the bench with nice hooks for coats on either side. But, I've used up all my money so for now I have to make do with what I have, which is a mirror with hooks on the bottom of it from Pottery Barn. It was already hanging in the entryway, but it's not centered over the bench and that was driving me crazy. I decided I'd hang the mirror in the right place and call it a day until I got an influx of new design budget and could get a nice new mirror and hooks.
I took the mirror down and discovered that it was hung by two screws spaced exactly 16 inches apart. I actually measured this distance, with an actual tape measure, rather than just eyeing it, which was a step above my usual technique. Score one for Amy. I went to get my drill, which didn't work. Upon opening the battery compartment I realized only 2 of the 4 required double A batteries were loaded. I vaguely remembered taking two of the batteries out to put them in something else. But what was that something else... I checked the remote -- nope, that takes triple A. I checked several drawers, and while I am apparently stockpiling triple A batteries for some future shortage, I don't have a single double A. It would take under 3 minutes to throw on shoes, run down the stairs, cross the street, ask the guy behind the counter at the bodega for two double A batteries, pay him, and run back up. Really, under three minutes. It's what I should have done. It's what you would have done.
But, it is not what I did. I can do this without a drill, I thought. Who needs a drill. I unscrewed the first screw that had been holding the mirror in using a regular Philips head screwdriver. The second one presented a challenge. It was stuck. I needed a drill. I opened a drawer and grabbed a different screw and left the stuck one sticking half out of the wall. This is a temporary measure until I get my nice new mirror and nice new hooks, I kept reminding myself. It's okay if I half ass it. I just need this stupid mirror centered over the bench so I feel centered when I walk in the door.
I eyed the center of the bench, rather than measuring it (there's only so much growth a person can experience), and started to screw the first screw in the wall. Or, rather, I tried. I really needed a drill. I started hammering it with the back of the screw driver. No go. I tried the other screw, which was sharper, and that seemed to go a little easier. I hammered it a bit, screwed it in a bit, then took it out and put in the less sharp screw. I got it about three quarters of the way in. Good enough. Measuring exactly 16 inches to the left, I put the second screw in. Again, I needed a damn drill. I was getting hot. I stripped off my sweater and stood on the bench to get better leverage. I got the screw about halfway in. Good enough. I picked the mirror up and tried to get it on -- put it first on the one screw, fine, then on the second, but it wouldn't catch, the screw wouldn't go into the stupid tiny screw hole. The screw was like one twentieth of an inch too far to the right. I pushed and pulled and fought and tried to force it and this whole time I see you shaking your head and I hear you saying "Amy. Amy. Amy."
It's fine! I say. It's fine it's fine! This is just a temporary measure until I get my nice new mirror. I just need this damn thing hanging centered right now! Just go and get a drill and measure it properly and do it right, you say. NO. I will not. I continue to fight, lose, and have to pull the screw out and move it about a twentieth of an inch over to the right. I can only get it about 3/8 of the way into the wall this time. Good enough. I'm sweating. I put the mirror on, it fits, great, done. Over. In the very, very back of my head you say that surely I don't actually believe that the screws that are hanging onto the wall by a thread are actually going to support the mirror and the coats I plan to hang off the hooks on the bottom of it, but I brush your doubts away. I got it, I'm fine.
I hang one coat, then a second. When I put the third coat on the hook, the mirror and all the coats come crashing down. But, of course, you already knew that would happen.
So, fine. I'll stop off and get some stupid batteries on the way home later and I'll do it the right way, the way I should have done it in the first place. And maybe one day I will learn that if you start out doing it the right way, then the three minutes that it would have taken to run to get the batteries would actually wind up saving about 3 hours in the end. But, I don't know, Dad, I've been this way a long time. As much as your voice lives in my head, I've never managed to be precise as you were.
love you
a
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