Home Improvement

Last week Becky and I finally decided that it was time to do some work in the boy's room downstairs. It was supposed to be a change in their flooring that would handle the damp nature of that corner of the basement. Funny thing about my home improvement projects, they tend to have what I call "mission creep", namely, the tendency to grow from it's original scope.


As the removal of drywall went from the corner to the rest of the wall, and finally into the closet, I looked up and realized that this project gave us the chance to do something more than mitigation. We had the chance to make real improvements to the room with only a little more effort. So, we decided to widen the closet from it's 48 inches to something closer to 80 inches, more useful for two boys with lots to store.


It also gave me the chance to expand my tool capabilities and Becky bought me my birthday gift early, a 12" compound sliding miter saw. Of course it was on sale, and Becky had a coupon and a gift card to help defray most of the cost. Truly, a great tool and it has made the framing much easier than using a skill saw only.


A Regrettable Casualty
While framing the new closet, I was calling to remembrance all the years with Dad finishing basements and was quite comfortable with the work plan. As I was working on one of the corner pieces, I found holding the three studs in place a bit more work than two hands could handle, and while nailing it together, I walloped my finger like never before. It immediately began to turn a rich purple as the blood swiftly began to collect near the offended digit. The pain went beyond a customary throbbing as I hopped up and down regretting not having some help holding the studs in place. I knew if it isn't broken, it was close to it.

I went upstairs and called out to Becky for some help only to find that she had taken the kids to the store. Alone in my agony, I went to the ice dispenser and filled a large glass with crushed ice. As I surrounded the finger in ice, it only hurt worse and I determined I'd rather have it swell than suffer this "treatment."

My next thought was, do I go to a doctor? I struck only the very tip and if it was actually broken, it is unlikely that any significant treatment would be prescribed, so I splinted it to its neighbor, "long man" and decided to get back to the task at hand. In time, Becky bought me a finger splint and I think that I have it all taken care of. Happily, the finger still points in one direction, the nail is a certain loss, and while still a lovely shade of mottled violet, it will likely heal well.

The Left Hand Really Doesn't Know
As I have reflected on this tragic event, I noticed that my left hand also is covered in little cuts and nicks from this project, as well as the scars from previous incidents. I realized that the left hand must really hate the right because it is always the southpaw that suffers from the carelessness of his partner. Its the left that is cut by the right, slammed by the right, hammered by the right, stabbed by the right. Its true when they say, "The left hand doesn't know what the right hand is doing." My thought is, if the left hand had any clue what the right hand was about to do, it would have moved out of the way and left go long before the hammer fell.

But, like a faithful partner, the left knows that it has an important role to play. Rarely in the lead, the left hand is still an integral part of the whole. Now that my left hand is on the disabled list for a few weeks, I have realized all that the left does for me. The left picks up nails from the ground, provides counter balance when drilling and and sawing with the right, and holds the knot tight while the right finishes. The left hand holds the fork steady while I cut and ultimately, it is the left that feeds. It is also the left hand that opens cabinets, holds containers steady, and, surprisingly, plays a rare lead roll in the chore of shampoo. It is also the injured left pointer responsible for so many of the key strokes in this blog. The other fingers have had to step up and make sure that "r, t, g, b, v, f, 4, 5" are in their proper order. Needless to say, my words per minute is suffering mightily.

So, friends, take a short opportunity to thank the left hand for all he does. Largely unrecognized for his hard work and support, he deserves a hearty "handshake" from the right.


Sidebar your Honor...
Isn't Becky a beautiful woman? What a lucky man am I?