Whenever I mention the word ‘Shelf’, Hubby is likely to dive for cover.
His track record for putting up shelves is, well, let us say, not good.
Not that it’s exactly his fault, just that if I want a shelf somewhere, it either costs him painfully (hammer and thumb comes to mind), something goes wrong (water pipe) or he ends up in A&E. I kid you not.
I don’t mind having a go at your basic DIY and decorating.
In fact, I’d had no experience of decorating until Partner, where I got sick of everything being two shades of blue. He went out one night and came back to a hall of pink and white daisy wallpaper.
I’d made a rod for my own back then, as all the painting and decorating fell to me.
The bathroom had cork tiles on the wall (and layers of yacht varnish, one every day for a week for waterproofing), the small bedroom had a rather nice red and silver scroll wallpaper (if you didn’t look too close at the window, and weren’t those new curtains nice), and the kitchen cupboards were dark blue one day and white the next.
A paint tin and I do not see eye to eye though, and yes, those were my tears disguised as runs on the woodwork.
But I digress……….
Hubby and I are a good team. We’ve got pretty proficient at kitchens, showers and replacement walls, but shelves? Nah. No chance.
Just to get things in perspective, if we’re talking about free-standing bookcases, there is no problem whatsoever. It’s those things you put up on a wall that tend to fight back.
I’ve already done a post about the water, but the most dramatic has to be the shelf I wanted in the bathroom.
Hubby wasn’t too happy about drilling tiles so bought all the necessary kit to do the job, but kept putting it off.
The offending shelf, still boxed, was put in the roof until required, as we had a small accident with a can of paint stripper in the bath, which being avocado in colour ended up looking like Mr Blobby with a hangover.
We ended up replacing it with a shower cubicle, which confused the dog at the time as he used to hide in the bath whenever we had thunder or fireworks.
Eventually, Hubby realised he could put it off no longer. There was the perfect gap on the wall above where the bath taps had been for said shelf, it was just a case of putting it up.
I was putting the kettle on when there was this almighty crash, and I rushed into the hall to find Hubby flat on his back holding his arm. I took hold of it to have a look and it started to bleed profusely, so having just qualified as a First Aider At Work (certificate already hanging on wall, NOT on a shelf) I told him to put pressure on it and asked if anywhere else hurt, like his neck or his back, to which he replied ‘No’.
(The dog was brilliant, knowing to keep out of the way and stayed in one corner.)
I managed to get him on his feet, and still holding his arm with a tea towel wrapped round it, got him in the car and down to A&E in ten minutes flat.
Apart from a head injury that came in just after him, he was seen more or less immediately, and because the cut had gone almost down to the bone, had to have eleven stitches. Luckily he hadn’t broken anything, or severed anything important.
When asked how he did it, he calmly said ‘The wife wanted me to put up a shelf’.
My reply was that some men will do anything to get out of doing something, and in his determination NOT to put the damn thing up, he threw himself out of the roof.
What had actually happened was that the brackets holding the loft ladder in position had sheared and when he was half way up, the whole thing collapsed, so he was extremely lucky not to have a serious injury.
And the shelf?
It stayed in the roof, in the box, until we eventually got £3 for it at a car boot sale.
Here on the boat we have no flat walls or space to put a shelf anyway, so he’s off the hook!