Tool time

As I've mentioned before, when it comes to home improvement, I'm more Tim Taylor than Al Borland. You know the old saying, "Measure twice, cut once"? I was always more, "Cut four times, measure once and then, maybe, look at the instructions." The handymen I saw most frequently when I was growing up were Moe, Larry and Curly.

I managed to get by as a bachelor living on my own. But once Belle and I moved in together, I realized my days of slightly-crooked pictures on the wall would be coming to an end.

But who knew a marriage license also was a contractor's license? Perhaps it's pride in home ownership or the fact I now possess a level, but I've become quite handy around the house.

It started the day we moved in and Belle wanted me to hang several boards on the wall, including a dry-erase board for our weekly dinner menu. (If you don't keep a weekly dinner menu, you should start immediately. It takes the suspense out of what's for dinner and replaces it with anticipation. Plus, you always know when it's going to be pancakes night and can plan the rest of your day accordingly.)

Don't let the snazzy design fool you -- the two chairs on the left are deadly

Anyways, the boards required two things I was not good at: anchor screws and straight lines. Anchor screws always meant to me "a drilling accident waiting to happen." And even with the aforementioned level, my decorating style could be described as "cockeyed."

Nevertheless,the first project in our new house was a chance for a fresh start I was eager to have. After a few stud-finder jokes (those never get old), I got down to work. I was a little nervous, envisioning our wall pockmarked with small holes as if we lived in a war zone.

But I successfully got the boards on the wall on the first try, much to the shock of myself, Belle, my mother-in-law and probably the construction crews working outside. Whoever invented the anchor screws that you screw, rather than drill, into the wall deserves sainthood.

Alas, there have been some construction hiccups along the way -- and by "hiccups," I mean "the small but noticeable crack on the side of our kitchen table." There also were times I thought Belle bought things just to challenge me, such as the TV stand with more pieces that fit together at right angles than a game of Tetris.

But everything has been built, hanged or installed, often with the help of my father-in-law, who is the best measure-er I have ever met. Some people take life one day at a time; he takes it by the sixteenth of an inch.

Then there were our barstools, which are pictured above. We initially bought two and I thought they looked off after the final turn of my Allen wrench. One of my proudest moments was when a professional handyman, who did in a day what would have taken me 52 years, agreed with me that one of the bar stools was structurally flawed. Finally, it wouldn't be my fault! The online reviews noted the stools were "sturdy but wobbly," which they were, but it got to the point I required guests to sign a waiver before sitting on the chairs.

We ordered new stools recently and, so far, they have remained upright and sturdy. Granted, no one has sat in them, but at least they don't look like death traps.

In the most telling sign of my growing confidence as Mr. Fix-It, I asked for a toolbox for my birthday this year, and not one made by Playskool. The only problem is, there are no more projects left to do. All of the major work required during our moving-and-settling-in phase is complete. I am a hammer looking for a nail.

I can hear some people close to me reading this and thinking, "There is plenty to assemble when you're getting ready for a baby." To which I say, "I wonder when the next pancakes night will be?"