The Day I Tried to Be a Handyman (Spoiler: It Went Horribly Wrong)

 

Let me be clear: I’m not what you’d call “handy.”

The last time I tried fixing something, a simple leaky faucet somehow turned my bathroom into a low-budget waterpark. But last weekend, I made the ultimate mistake—I decided I was going to become a DIY master.

It all began when the bathroom doorknob fell off.

No big deal, right? Just screw it back in. Except… the screws? Gone. Vanished. Like they’d been recruited by MI6. One moment they were there; the next, they’d entered the screw version of witness protection.

Still, I was determined. I strutted into the hardware store like I actually belonged there.

The employee asked, “What kind of screws do you need?”

I blinked. “Uh… the twisty kind?”

He looked at me like I’d said I needed edible hammers.

After 20 minutes of a crash course in “Screwology,” I walked out with a bag of mysterious metal bits and way too much confidence.

Back home, I quickly discovered the new screws didn’t fit. Naturally, I did the only thing that made sense to me:

I hammered them in.

The result? The doorknob now spins like a carnival ride on Red Bull… and the door won’t open.

Hours later, my spouse came home to find me trapped inside the bathroom, yelling “IT’S FINE, I’M FINE!” through the locked door.

They didn’t panic. They didn’t shout. They just sighed… and called a professional.

Moral of the story?

Some people are born to fix things.

Others are born to stand awkwardly in hardware aisles, pretending we know what “Phillips-head” means.

I know which one I am.

And I’ve made peace with it.

And that’s the tale for today... until the next spark of wonder.

Because stories don’t just end — they rest, waiting for someone to dream them awake again. See you in the next chapter.