Because I didn't just fall off the DIY turnip truck, I'm now ready and willing to share with those of you who may be new to this do-it-your-own-self deal, the single most valuable piece of advice that anyone could ever give you.
And no, I'm not talkin' about all that junk about always prime first or make sure you have the right tool for the job, etc.
I'm talkin' real life-altering wisdom here, the really useful junk. And here it is. Commit it to memory, write down somewhere, do what you have to, but always remember these words:
That's it. I know it sounds severe but you can plan what looks like a perfectly simple project, and then life and Diet Dr. Pepper consumption, and an addiction to surfing design blogs get in the way and, before you know it, you have 14 other projects swirling in your mind.
This is what I call Do-it-yourself Deficit Disorder - and this is where the narcotics become handy.
A person with DDD may have some or all of the following symptoms:
• easily distracted by irrelevant stimuli and frequently interrupts ongoing tasks to attend to, like taking the opportunity to pee without anyone else in the room, or sit on the sofa with an unblinking stare accompanied by a small saliva thread dangling from the corner of your mouth like a cellophane noodle while the kids are at school and the Hubbs is at the office.
• frequent shifts from one uncompleted project to another - like testing out how the sofa looks against the opposite wall or tending to your last unfinished painting escapade that won't stop heckling you from the kitchen.
• procrastination - well, I'll talk about that later.
• getting up frequently to stand back and admire the 3 inch by 3 inch square that took you 45 minutes to perfectly paint.
• often dancing excessively trying to perfect your "All The Single Ladies" dance moves all Beyonce-like.
• forgetfulness in DIY activities (for example, sitting down for a break on the wet stair step that you just painted 2 minutes before and ruining your best pair of "I-got-a-ka-donkey-donk-butt-from-eating-too-many-Christmas-cookies" sweat pants).
• frequent shifts in conversation, trying to change the subject when the Hubbs asks, "How are the stairs are coming?", not keeping one's mind on task, and painting your knee caps, your elbows, and hair instead of the stairs.
Just thought I'd share my insight, cuz, knowledge is power, y'all - Am I right?
So, hopefully, the next post that I do about the stairs will be accompanied by jaw-dropping photos of the finished project. But its time for my meds and a little drool time, so, I really must go.
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