Lady Carhartts

“Hey.” the voice calls to me with a confidence. It knows my efforts to resist will be useless. My lady Carhartts beckon to me. Assuring me that the time and willpower does exist to complete a likely unnecessary project.

“Girl. You know we’ve hated that navy blue toilet and sink since we moved in here. It’s time.”

And just like that, the spontaneous powder room remodel was underway.

My double knee chocolate brown duck cloth has seen some things. They’re present at every half cocked endeavor that’s crept into my brain. They give me a sense of handyman self-assurance that will maybe someday be backed up with evidence. I try, but I know I consistently make things more difficult than they need to be. It has to be hard to watch. Nevertheless, me and the pants struggle through.

Most of my projects really boil down to exercises in humility. I’ve seen projects on TV. I watched Brian and Gino and my boys do things. All the things look easy. When I do them, they’re not easy. They’re not easy at all. In the course of a weekend I can learn several new things that I’m bad at. Looking at nuts and estimating what socket I need, bad. Moving the old toilet without breaking it, bad. Hanging drywall, bad. Setting tile without crying, bad. Avoiding hitting my head on the faucet over and over, bad.

Makers and fixers must be appreciated. A pair of soft Carhartts is a sign of accomplishment. The human attached to them has been very useful. My Carhartts are not soft. They were bought for a specific purpose nine whole years ago. Even though I try to make sure they’re used often, they still look like Carhartts owned by a social worker. They are disrespected by being laundered foo-fooey. Carhartts should not smell like fabric softener. They should smell like grout, wood oil, taping mud, and other smells of achievement. Their loops and pockets should be packed with needed implements instead of my cell phone that I again use to watch the YouTube video about how to take out a toilet. (God bless YouTube tutorials!)

Despite the lack of ability I bring to the equation, the powder room is coming along nicely. I think the tears are a great solvent to clean my tile glue overspray. Me and my pants are excited to get it done. Not only because that hideous toilet is gone, but because it means we can move on to the next things to learn about and attempt to accomplish. I call back to my pants, “Hey girl. Look at how that border around the trees is all uneven due to the roots.” My pants fake nod back at me with knowing and approval. “I got you. Let’s be useful.”