Such a Cut-up

When I buy something to hang in my house I want it up now. I don't want to wait until Blake can do it. I just do it, right then, too impatient to even remove tags. I also lack patience for the measure-twice-hang-once philosophy of shelf-hanging. The goal is to get it up quickly so I can see the great wall transformation immediately.

The many flaws in this modus operandi are visible and, frankly, dangerous. Inspect any hanging wall decor in my home and you will see two constellations of nail holes surrounding the two selected to be closest to level. The holes aren't hard to see since the shelves I hang are not flush with the wall, inching forward off their nails in a slow suicide attempt. At any moment one could succeed. Beware anyone in the vicinity when this happens.

Just ask the Three Wiseman in our nativity set...well, two Wisemen...and one lamb. May they rest in peace.

Dutch Baby became a victim of my carelessness last Sunday. I heard a crash and a cry and ran in to see her next to the downed shelf, holding her head. She had reached up to pull a musical toy off of it and ended up getting cut at her hairline as it fell from its precarious perch.


Now she has four stitches and my shelf-hanging days are over. Blake forbade it.

After all, I did marry an engineer. Well, I married a penniless kid who would one day be a structual engineer, but still...I should take advantage of his expertise. I'll leave the shelf-hanging to the professional. For the good of the children.

And the remaining Wiseman.