It’s a process…

Moving. It’s a process.

There’s nothing fun about it, unless you’re moving into my stupid awesome downtown flat! Got a one bedroom that I simply adore, and I’m really pleased with my leasing company (Henry Turley) and all the people I’ve met along the way who’ve been part of the process. But moving never comes without a little bit of trauma.

So… I have this closet, and despite being a jeans-and-tee-shirt kinda gal, I have A LOT of clothes. (Swear I purged!)  I totally needed more closet space, so I got permission to hang an additional shelf. Hooray! …or so I thought.

My first obstacle was power. People don’t just randomly put power outlets in closets. So, I’m hanging this shelf, and, well… this is what my closet looks like:

And for a one-bedroom apartment, it’s a pretty great closet. But I have a lot of crap. So, I’m going to hang a bottom row on the right-hand side. No problem. I own power tools. Borrowed some levels from my bestie. I got this.

I go to Lowe’s, I buy the goods, I tote ’em up… I’m on it. And I’m on a roll. Truth be told, I had to send snaps of the instructions to the BFF and say, “What the hell?” but that’s okay. I’m making this happen. I’m going to hang me a damn shelf.

Well, let’s go back to that whole “no outlets in the closet bit.”

Sadly, I also don’t have any extension cords here yet, either. Don’t tell the fire marshal what I did to fix that. Haha!  Wanna see??? Hot mess, right???

But hey! I’m getting the job done, and those strips are grounded. And I’m drilling the crap out of that wall, hanging me a shelf, ’cause sista’s got a lot of pants. Towards the end, I decided that I needed a head wound.

Those shelves at the back wall? The installers didn’t spring for the cute little rubber caps that go on the ends when you cut them with an aggressive set of wire-cutters and leave ’em all gnarly. Totally going to have to fix that… (Update: A year and some change later, they’re still gnarly.) So when I bend forward to pick up the drill — you guessed it — WHAM!  Head meets gnarly end. It’s gorgeous. Split me wide open, and of course, the first thing I have to do is not perform first aid or worry about Tetanus. Nope. It’s take a selfie in the bathroom mirror and send it to the bestie so we can have a good laugh at my carelessness. Frikkin’ fantastic stuff. Fortunately, teeny bandage and get on with my life.

Long story short, after a ton of pretending I’m some kind of engineer, I finally got that joker hung up — evenly!! My new closet is superb. Finally starting to feel like I’ve got some place to be that’s simply me. I mean… it’s a process, right? I’ll take it.

I wanna hear from you?  Have you got a DIY debacle in your past?