To tell my story, I must go back in time...years ago when I was a young bride. When every unused surface of a wall was fair game for a painting, a doo-dad, an ornament, sign, or shelf. And due to my lazy nature, it was beyond my efforts to walk out to the garage and retrieve a level from the tool bag. So most times it took four, five, maybe even eight holes in the drywall before the Mona Lisa of all garage sale paintings was hanging straight and proper on the wall.
Because of this extreme lack of forethought on my part, I was suddenly banned from ever owning, using, buying or dreaming of ...a hammer.
It was cruel to say the least. That I was humbled to the point that I had to wait endless days (and sometimes months )for my husband to bring in his hammer and hang my treasures. It was embarrassing to admit to all my DIY friends that my punishment prevented me from crafting and creating a mass wonderland of Martha Stewart masterpieces and walls of photographic awesomeness.
There were occasions when I childishly thought my sentence might be lifted...times when my husband and I would walk through Home Depot or Lowes and I would admire a shiny new hammer...touch the fiberglass handle or the cushioned grip...
" You want that hammer, don't you?" my husband would ask ,as I ran my fingers across the nickeled claw in a gentle petting- like motion.
"Yes, yes!" I exclaimed with tears in my eyes.
" Not . Gonna. Happen.," he reminded me with that Grinch-y smile on his face.
So, there were years of sneaking around. Of using shoes and phones and rocks and spoons to hammer inconspicuous nails into walls begging for ornamentation. Of patching and glueing and hiding holes that accidentally fell short of perfection. Most times he never noticed. But once, for a whole week, I was prevented from using a spoon for anything!
Okay, you are probably wondering what that has to do with wishes coming true. Well, I have finally been paroled. I have my very own hammer. With a soft black grip and a silver finish that shines like jewelry. And I've coupled it with a brand new 4-in-1 screwdriver to make my life complete.
But here's the catch. I have to use it.
We are building onto the barn and there are walls to be made and wood to be hammered and nails pulled and all sorts of non- fun hammering things to do.
So now that I have it, I must utilize it. No matter if the result could very possibly ( and most likely) result in busted fingers, bruised arms, bloody fingernails and cracked bones.
I dread the whole " getting my hammer dirty" scenario, but I totally embrace this new found freedom. Once the barn is built and my new home is ready...and its time to hang pictures... there is no way he could possibly revoke my hammer rights.