In the stairwell this afternoon, I hung an old plywood advertising sign I purchased from the short-lived Homeric Traders. I had figured it would have to be suspended gallery style by wires attached to the window frame way above; thus my appeal on Facebook last night for an assistant with a tall ladder and upper body strength.
Early this morning, my son Matt (I forget that he’s on Facebook) sent a text saying he would be by within the hour to hang the sign. But, as sometimes happens, a simple do-it-yourself solution had come to mind during the night. The installation wasn’t nearly as complicated as I imagined for the two years this treasure leaned against a wall downstairs.
My idea was to run bolts through a couple of the numerous existing holes in the sign, secure the bolts with washers, then run picture frame wire across the back and hang the sign on the stud-secure hook that’s already in the wall. I love the painting that was there, but it’s too small for that space.
As I searched for bolts, I realized — mind you, this is after two years of delay — that I could use regular picture hanging gadgets, which I always have in the kitchen junk drawers, so I set to work and got the sign ready to hang in short order. Why did I work myself up into thinking this was such a big deal?
Not once did I put any of the screws in my mouth, heeding the warning in the picture hanging kit. I know they caution about this because, with screws in your mouth, you can’t say or shout the things people sometimes need to say when they’re deep into do-it-yourself projects. For me, saying “Crap!” every few minutes helps tremendously.
The sign isn’t terribly heavy; it’s just bulky — four feet square — so I was confident and proud to tell Matt I could do this all by myself. Carrying it up to the landing was easy. Lifting it and getting the wire over the hook wasn’t, so I built scaffolding with things close at hand: an old wooden bench salvaged from a garage sale in Seldovia and an old Pearl Oil box, which also came from Homeric Traders. I thought about how crows are clever about rigging up solutions and felt pretty pleased with myself.
Once I got the sign on top of all of that, it took some panting and three big pushes (I thought of the encouraging nuns on Call the Midwife) to get the wire over the hook. The sign is hanging too low, but I won’t change it today. This is good enough for now. It’s time for me to head down to Bishops Beach for a haircut at 2-2 Tango. I wonder what groovy music Angela will be playing this afternoon.
The Cheechako Diaries 