I’ve always been a bit headstrong when it comes to exceeding someone’s expectations of me. Maybe it’s because I’m an only child – an only girl, at that, but I’ve always wanted to do it myself, and do it better than you thought I could. Face it, I like to impress you.

Owning a house, this is no exception. I’m beyond proud that I was a homeowner at age 24, that I have thus far not fallen through any ceilings of said house nor have I done any major structural damage in my various home improvement projects that I’m continually tackling. I’m nothing if not impetuous – deciding to paint my bedroom on a Sunday afternoon is a common occurrence, as is buying new light fixtures or fans and attempting to re-wire an outlet. And yet, though everything is in working order and somewhat level, I think I should have paid more attention in middle school shop class.

Almost 2 years of home improvement ventures have left me with an organized closet that rivals California Closets, some shelves, a new dining room light fixture, a blue bedroom & bathroom, somewhat-unscuffed (due to touch-up paint) walls, curtain rods, curtain hold-backs, chrome light plates and more. And despite my new cabinet pulls (also a lovely chrome variety) and the soothing shade of blue that eases me to sleep every night, I’ve got to admit – handywoman I am not. Rosie the Riveter would roll her eyes in frustration if she caught a glimpse of the battleground that is my closet wall. It looks like a drywall sieve, as – in making the aforementioned high-class and very functional closets – I had two not-so-high class, falling down on my head versions that left me with, um, let’s just say nearly 50 drill holes that I’ve yet to patch.

Onto the light fixtures. If we have an earthquake, I’d bet the farm (or perhaps MDR) that the first thing to come crashing down is the light over the kitchen table, as it’s held up in a very creative (read: jacked up) way because, hell, I’m a girl with no patience, no formal training on what to do when your drywall ceiling needs anchor bolts that don’t seem to work b/c the light is too heavy, and no boyfriend/brother/father within a close driving radius. So, I do it myself.

This weekend I once again embarked on another home improvement project: putting up shades so I can sleep in past 8am on the weekends instead of having to wear eye masks or eye pillows to block out the light. (Though I’ve mastered the use of them; My Darling Roommate wonders how I can sleep with them balancing on my face. Years of practice, of course.) So I take my trusty Saab-alamobile (a feeble excuse for a handywoman’s car) to Home Depot (a store I know inside & out since I’ve come up with over 30,000 keywords for them in the past few months) to find myself some Room Darkening shades. (That’s what they call them: Room Darkening shades. If only every product was labeled so descriptively.) I’ve taken the appropriate measurements (31 1/2″ from window frame side-to-side), know that I want the Medium weight sans-froo froo ruffle shades in the longer length, and I want them in white. I will need some mounting brackets (hee! Mounting!), a drill (located somewhere under the bed) and a measuring tape to ensure that they’re level. Oh yes, Aubrey is prepared.

So I go home, find the drill after wading through old boxes of checks and other sundry items that I’ll spare you from describing, and even get an extension cord. I’ve turned on the fan (it’s hot in my room), re-position the cat on the bed as to not scare her with the sound of the drill (my coughing scares her as well, so this is an exercise in futility), and get up on my couch, prepared to mount. (hee! The brackets; I’m mounting the brackets. On the wall.) I draw my circles, and start to drill.

Plaster comes flying. Aaah yes, the drill was on reverse; THAT’S why the bit came flying out and nearly impaled my eye. Ok, let’s try again. Well, apparently the holes I positioned were too close to the blinds that were already hung (though have thus far done a pathetic job of filtering out ANY light, thus the need for the Room Darkening shades) and the hole I drilled wasn’t exactly straight. Ok, third time’s the charm. Finally, I drill the holes, I put in the screws, and the electric screwdriver dies on me. Aaah, so let’s use the DRILL to be a quasi-screw driver. Yes, that will work.

10 minutes, many beads of sweat later, I have the brackets mounted. See? Handywoman Aubrey to the rescue!

Now screwing in the shade itself (is it just me or does home improvement require you to use words like “Screw” and “Mount” a lot? This is NOT good for a girl who still has a 4th grader’s since of humor) is another feat. Apparently, the little old handy lady at Home Depot didn’t actually cut my shades to be 31 1/2″ because the peg won’t fit in the hole (see what I mean? Mount! Screw! hee!) and it keeps falling down on my head. OK, so I’ll bend the brackets; they’re firmly screwed into the wall, so I can likely just bend the suckers to decrease the width between the window frames, thus making the shade stay!

Note to self: Do not try to bend metal brackets with a screwdriver blade lest you propel yourselves backwards, falling over the couch into a pajama-clad heap on the floor. Good thing I moved the cat.

10 minutes later, some unsuccessful attempts to un-screw the brackets and re-screw them with Kleenex behind them (to make them stick out farther, of course), and a stronger screw driver, and I’ve got the shade installed.

Backwards.

Ok, long story short, I fixed it. The shade is up. And despite a 1/2″ space on either side of the window frame where the shade doesn’t cover (31 1/2″ my ass), I’m 1/2 done. I am superwoman, hear me roar. And I’m dying with sweat – I need to change.

Onto the other shade. Always one to apply “best practices” as more than a corp-speak suggestion, I decided to mount both of the brackets at once, and THEN screw in the shade. Yes, I’m a smart cookie. Bracket one: Success. No problem. I’m fan-f-ing-tastic, you see – I wonder if there’s a market for professional shade mounters because I need to sign up at once. Though it’s still hot in there – since I’m the only one home, I may as well take off my PJ pants to finish, since it’s all of five minutes until I declare myself the Master of all Shade Mounters, esq.

Never, EVER begin to think that you’re in the running for the Master of all Shade Mounters, as you’ve jinxed yourself to metal window frames, stripped screws and a broken drill. Which I had.

The second mounting was off center; in trying to remove it, I somehow managed to strip the screw, leaving me with a metal-sharded screwdriver and one very ill-placed mounting. Ok, I’ll do what any sane pseudo Mounter of the Universe would do – get that thing out of the wall, however possible, and start over. And I’ve got the right tool for the job – the back-end part of a hammer. (I have no idea what that’s called, and by now, no patience to figure it out.) So I prop myself up on my end table with one foot, the other foot on the wall as to help me pull out the mounting, and alas – in a rainstorm of plaster and dust and screws and mounts, I get that sucker out of the wall.

Along with a nice part of the window frame.

Not to be defeated, I repositioned the mounting, drew my circles, drilled my holes, and screwed my screws. I did the aforementioned mounting-bend with the screwdriver (the appropriate metal-bending tool, you see) and installed the shade. Only to find that it was broken – you can pull it down, but it won’t get back up.

And that, my friends, is why My Darling Roommate found me standing on my bed in a tank top, my underwear, covered in plaster with a shade and a hammer in my hand, a screwdriver placed in my undies like a tool belt.

I think Rosie the Riveter might just be proud of me, after all.