Born to rest and relax, forced to DIY or die trying

The sliding door that leads to the balcony is broken and has been for some time. Not so broken it’s unusable, but broken enough that to open and close the door, you must throw all your weight behind it and really push while simultaneously jiggling. Only then will the sliding door actually slide (very slowly).

I’ve made peace with this situation, reframed it in my mind as a charming house quirk, like a tap that turns on too fast or a slightly wonky step. The type of thing you might mention to an overnight guest as a courtesy – “Oh, by the way, the sliding door can be tricky!” – but not something that needs urgent attention.

In a time when we are encouraged to be anything we want, why must I still pretend to be someone who can fix things. Credit: MIchael Howard

Unfortunately, my wife Kate doesn’t see it the same way, the broken door being a constant source of tension for her. Rarely a week goes by without discussing the door and our plans for it. We might be sitting on the lounge, quietly watching TV together, when she suddenly bolts upright as if possessed: “We really should fix that door.”

The “we” in this statement means me, despite the fact I have never been someone who successfully fixes things, choosing instead to live by the motto: If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it; if it is broke, also don’t fix it.

Others love to be handy, and I support their right to carry out general repairs, but I simply do not possess these skills. It feels important to note that I am handy in other, less celebrated ways.

No one else is better at ordering just the right amount of food for a large group, planning a complicated commute via public transport, or recommending an appropriate venue for any occasion.

Need a hole-in-the-wall bar for your intimate birthday drinks? No worries. Have an actual hole in the wall that requires filling? I’m not your man.

Lately, however, frustrations around the door have reached breaking point, much like the door itself. A recent argument over something unrelated – whether Raspberry Coke would be popular if relaunched today – somehow concluded with a passive-aggressive reminder that the door remained broken. “Anyway, whatever, can you please fix that door soon?”

I agreed that I would, secretly promising myself to continue ducking any DIY responsibilities for the foreseeable future. However, Kate is no fool and understands that the easiest way to get someone to do something they don’t want to do is to shame them into it by involving a third party.

Enter: my father-in-law.

Equal parts handy and determined, this is a man who would rather perish in an electrical accident than allow a professional to fix his faulty wiring. A real DIY or die trying kind of guy.

I can name three things in this lineup.Credit: Photographic

As luck would have it, the only thing he loves more than being given odd jobs around the house is explaining stuff to me, so you can imagine his jubilation when he got the call-up for door-gate.

This is not the first time he’s had to lend a hand to his not-so-handy son-in-law (nor will it be the last), and before long, we settled into our usual roles. While he lay on the ground muttering about the sliding door rollers ‘being from another century,’ I offered gentle encouragement from the sidelines.

Typically, I find that if I ask enough vaguely encouraging questions it gives the appearance of being involved without any of the heavy lifting. Do you think that looks good? Reckon that’ll hold? That seems to have done the trick?

Eventually, the decision is made that the rollers need replacing, meaning a trip to Bunnings is required. Bunnings is a mecca for the DIY crowd, a meeting spot to connect with other people who are excited that the lowest prices are just the beginning.

The seventh circle of hell is a hardware store.

Unsurprisingly, I try to stay away, probably because the entire place reminds me of my shortcomings. The only redeeming feature is that most stores smell faintly of sausage sizzles.

Having secured the rollers, it was back home to finish the job we (the “we” in this statement means he) started. Within half an hour, the rollers were reattached, and the sliding door was sliding once more.

Unable to help with the fixing portion of the day, the very least I could do was fix my father-in-law up for the supplies. However, when I offered to pay, he waved me away and directed me toward the Bunnings shopping bag. “There’s something in there for you, mate.”

What I pulled out was quite clearly a tool kit for children shaped like a truck. According to the label: “This 10-piece tool kit is an ideal starter set for any child aged 7+. Best used under supervision, help mum and dad with DIY projects around the home. Keep your tools safe and secure in the handy truck carry case!”

We laughed, and I promised to use it in the future, fully aware that this would never happen. We have a perfect system and if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

Find more of the author’s work here. Email him at [e-mail] or follow him on Instagram at @thomasalexandermitchell and on Twitter @_thmitchell.

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