There's nothing like do-it-yourself projects.
Americans love those fix-up-the-home projects.
Our nation was founded on the principle that we could make a lot better tea than the British and make our own home repairs without help from King George III.
So we were just following a time-honored tradition when we decided to replace Becca's bedroom curtains with blinds the other day. The fact that her curtains were falling down was a factor too.
We let Becca help pick out the mini-blinds. That, as it turned out, was the easy part.
Getting them up was a different matter. I knew we were in trouble when I opened the first box of blinds and discovered a massive instructions manual.
My first thought was to install the blinds without reading the directions, eliminating the need to decipher confusing instructions.
Unfortunately, there were too many pieces for such a charge-ahead move.
Besides, we were talking about fixing up Becca's room. As a dad, I wanted it to look good, no busted blinds for her room.
So, getting up my courage, I started reading the directions. Naturally, they were written in that hard-to-understand style that clearly defines do-it-yourself projects.
There were even drawings with the instructions. Of course, they were of no help at all. I'm convinced the whole idea of drawings in instruction manuals is to further confuse the poor person trying to read them.
It was almost impossible to tell what was up and what was down with these drawings, which I'm convinced were drawn by Third-World villagers who had never seen blinds and didn't have a clue why anyone would want them.
You know you have top quality stuff when the instructions come in several languages. That way you can be thoroughly confused in several countries. In our global economy, Americans don't want to be the only ones confused about fix-it-up projects.
Thankfully, Joni was around to help translate the instructions. My wife has a knack for deciphering instruction manuals and our children's Christmas lists.
She also isn't about to let me do this stuff by myself. She still gives me grief about the fact that I once put together a tricycle for Toy Box only to end up with some leftover pieces.
I continually point out that do-it-yourself projects often come with extra pieces. But she still worries that the tricycle might have collapsed with some kid aboard.
In the end, we managed to get all the blinds up without destroying Becca's bedroom. They even open and close.
Once the project was completed, I threw away the directions for fear that one day I would have to reread all that little print.
There's nothing worse than going blind trying to put up blinds.
Now that this project is out of the way, there are several others on my to-do list. But it's hard to get excited about reading more directions.
I'm convinced there's good reason for confusing instructions. Fix-it-up experts don't want to make it too easy for you. Otherwise, there would be no need for them.
As for Becca's blinds, they continue to stay up. But I'm ready with the Super Glue if the blinds ever show signs of falling down.
Never mind, all those extra screws we had left over. At this point, it's an open and shut case.
Mark Bliss is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.
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