We took down our Christmas decor the other day. We bought some new decorative pieces this year and didn’t have enough room to store all of them. We ran out of floor space. We had to think about utilizing the space above us. I went out to the garage and decided that I was going to have to add shelving.
I am not a carpenter. Construction is not my area of expertise. The things that I construct look like they were built in prehistoric times. If you need something torn apart into a million pieces without any regard for its former shape and size, I’m your guy.
After much thought and several Google searches, I decided I would probably need wood for these shelves. And since I’m not a total dunce, I figured the best place to acquire such materials would be the local lumberyard. My son and I hopped into the vehicle and blazed a trail to the nearest one.
I walked up to the counter and was met with a side-eyed look and raised eyebrows. I’m not one to frequent this store. I wasn’t dressed like your friendly neighborhood construction worker. My hair was combed, and I didn’t have a pencil above my ear. There weren’t any sweat stains peeking out where my shirt sleeves joined the rest of the shirt. I didn’t have holes in the knees of my britches. I had taken a shower and used deodorant that morning. I didn’t carry a spit cup. My teeth are white. I had a pleasant look on my face. This guy was suspicious.
“What can I do fer ya?”
“I need some lumber.”
“Ya came to the right place.”
“That’s what Google said, too. I need some 1x12s.”
“8 foot or 16 foot?”
“16 feet. How much are those?”
“$41.65.”
“Okay. I’ll just take one.”
“Ya betcha. That’ll be $45.87. Ya ever got lumber here before?”
He knew I hadn’t.
“…No…”
“Go through the gate beside of the building, and then turn right. Go straight past them trucks sittin’ thar and stop at the stop sign. Somebody’ll take yer ticket and getcha yer piece’a wood.”
We loaded back into the truck and followed the directions. A man came out and took our ticket. He told me to pull on around to the side of the building. There’s a garage door that they bring the lumber out of.
The truck I’m using only has a 5-6 foot bed. I didn’t take this into account.
I’m standing by the truck as the man who took the ticket comes out of the garage door with my 16-foot piece of lumber.
He looks at me incredulously, “Uh…how are you wanting to do this.”
It was not a question. It was a statement meant to sound like a question. He was letting me know that it wasn’t going to work. That board was not going to stay in the bed of the truck.
“Well, I ain’t quite sure.” I surmised.
I’m standing there looking at the longest piece of lumber I’ve ever seen. At least, it looked like it compared to the bed of the truck. I didn’t want 10 feet of board sticking out the back.
“I guess I should’ve gotten two 8-footers,” I concluded.
“Yeah.”
I’m still standing there.
“We can cut it for ya.”
“You can?”
“Sure. You want two 8-footers?”
No, Herman. I wanted a 16-footer to cut to the exact width of my garage wall, which I hadn’t measured yet.
“Yeah, I’ll take two 8-footers.”
He cuts it and loads it in the back of the truck.
“You gonna strap it down?”
“Don’t have any.”
“Whatchu gonna do if it falls out?”
“Stop and pick it up.”
Silence.
He finally finds his voice, “Well, have a good’n.”
“You too. How do I get out of here?”
“You have to turn around and go out the same way you came in.”
“Oh.”
Sigh. There’s not much space. I’ve borrowed a brand new truck to get this minuscule amount of lumber. I could’ve carried it through the store to the front parking lot instead of coming back here. Oh well.
10 minutes later, I’m pulling out of the lumberyard…yard.
As I previously mentioned, I’m not a builder. I make it home with the lumber intact. Then it takes me two hours to figure out how I’m going to get the lumber on the wall. I bought some brackets, but it still doesn’t quite register with me.
Studs. I need studs. Commence the knocking. Do you know how hard it is for the untrained ear to determine the sound a stud makes?
It’s pert near impossible. So I started drilling screws into the wall.
I heard once upon a time that buildings are constructed with studs being 16 inches apart. That’s not the case with my garage. Whoever said that was probably a guy like me, a destruction worker. I tried 12 inches. Nope. After making the sheetrock look like it had been attacked by a woodpecker, I found a stud. At that point, it was starting to show through all the holes. The first stud I could find was 24.5 inches from the corner.
I hold the first bracket up to the wall, I put the screw on the bit, and get it halfway screwed in… and the drill battery dies.
SIGH. That’s just great. Do you know how long it takes for a Black and Decker drill battery to charge? 367 hours.
Well, it feels like it.
Two hours later, the battery is sufficiently charged. I finish drilling the screw the rest of the way. I have just enough battery to put the 4 other screws into the wall.
After making sure everything was level, I finished what I had set out to do. Four hours later, it was finally time to take down the decor and put it up on the shelf.
Lesson learned. Next time, I’m just going to sell the Christmas decor. One Christmas was enough.
And this is why childhood Christmases were so much more magical. The adults did all the work.
to those who can’t afford to hire anybody,
– Caleb
caneymountainblog.com 