I like to think that I am pretty handy. Given the right amount of instruction, the right tools, and a fair amount of time, I can fix/install/build things as well as any guy. Now, given the wrong tools, no direction and a few glasses of wine, I can still get things done. I just may need a little more time. You can read more about my awesome handimanliness here. Oh yes. But today…Today, I reached new lows…Contact Paper kicked my ass. I’d like to blame pregnancy hormones, or lack of food, but I don’t think that is enough to explain the epic fail that I had.
First, let’s make sure you know what this EVIL (yet lovely) product is: Its the sticky backed paper stuff that you put in drawers or in cupboards to make them look pretty. At first glance, it’s pretty innocent looking. When I first opened the roll, I saw a ton of directions, and I thought “who the hell needs all these directions???
Isn’t it just measure, cut, stick? Apparently not (and no I didn’t read the directions)…
I got as far as measure and cut, but the only sticking happening was me to the paper, and the paper to itself. So after running out of hands, and making grunting noises, I hear from the front room, “Baby… um…do you need help?” It’s contact paper, I am pretty sure I’ve got this! So I holler back that I’m good, and try to lay the sheet into the drawer.
And fail again. At this point, I am grumpy that contact paper is kicking my ass, and it’s stuck to itself and I’m out of hands. So, I do the next best thing – I use my mouth to hold one corner while I pull the other areas apart. This is all sorts of brilliant, until I go to remove the paper from my lip.
At which point, my skin goes with the paper. Sigh.
It’s right around this time that Nick comes around the corner to see me covered in contact paper, bleeding from the mouth, with eyes wide open in awe – as I mumble with a drippy lip, “Contact paper kicked my ass!!”. He holds back his giggles reminds me about setting myself up for success (again, see the blog above), and gets me tissue, which promptly soaks through and he sets to work lining the drawer. Sigh. Apparently, lining drawers is a two person job, and having a box cutter for trim work makes the job run smoothly.
I now have three nicely drawers, a fat, tingly lip and a guy who held back laughing too hard at me as I tried to talk with a wad of tissue stuck to my face.
So lesson learned? Read the directions, and don’t underestimate the power of paper to whoop on you something fierce. Oh and don’t use your mouth when sticky paper is involved.
What projects (good or otherwise), have you been up to?
Raina “I’m definitively not Bob Villa”