How Men Hang Curtains, Part Two

Three months after writing How Men Hang Curtains my curtains were still in the bag. Of course. After all, it’s only been nine months since I bought them. I could have grown another person in that time.

Some of you may ask why I did not hang them myself. Fair question. I guess I could have, but there are problems with that. First, Husband does not allow me to touch his tools. I can’t really understand what the big deal was about me using a chisel to remove kitchen wallpaper. After all, he needed to repair that wall anyway. And I did buy him three new chisels to replace the one that was broken. And I did get the wallpaper off…

Second, no matter how perfectly I did it, it would not have been done right. It would not matter if my way was just as good as his. If it was not done his way it’s the wrong way. Really, it’s quite amusing that he thinks Bob Vila “doesn’t know shit“, though he does think Norm is a genius and makes sure to TiVo every show.

Sigh.

So, after three more months of me asking occasionally, making sure not to nag ( We wouldn’t have to nag if they just did what we asked the first time, now would we?), Husband finally got out the tools and the drapery rod I bought in North Carolina last October and went to work.

And promptly realized that the rod was about 6 inches too short. Hey, I don’t carry measurements with me on vacation! And it was $7 (And is now for sale on Craigslist. Anyone? Anyone?)!!

Soooooo, the next day I went to Target and purchased a new, longer rod. And waited…

Thirteen days later Husband got out the tools again. And this one’s finials were too big for the space. Sigh.

I was bound and determined to get those dang curtains up! I told Husband not to touch the tools, grabbed the wrong rod and rushed back to Target to find one with smaller finials. I may have pushed several old ladies out of the way in my haste, but whatever. I’m sure if I’d stopped to explain they’d have understood. I grabbed a rod, checked the size and raced home. I got there just as Husband was droopy-eyed and about ready to nap. No way was that happening.

Then came the “discussion” about how low I wanted them to hang. He doesn’t seem to understand that that 1/2 an inch makes a huge difference (insert frat-boy humor here). I take the curtains out of the bag and Husband declares that he doesn’t like them, and they don’t match. For a graphic designer he really has no sense of color in design. Still, shush up and hang ’em, dude.

We get into another “discussion” about where he was placing the rod holders. I wanted to put the curtains on the rod and mark the wall after seeing how they hang, to take into account variations in manufacturing and the size of the drapery rod; he felt that if the package said 84 inches it would be 84 inches (insert more frat-boy humor here). He was very patronizing and condescending as he explained to me once again why he was right. When I protested his attitude he said he just “can’t believe you don’t get this!” He places the brackets based on his measurements.

He protests about the height of the curtains, the necessity of sheers, the placement of the sheers. He recommended curtain-sheer-curtain-sheer instead of curtain-sheer-sheer-curtain. Seriously.

We get them on the rod and he lifts the rod onto the brackets and…they’re hanging too high. I only snickered when his back was turned. I told him to just leave it – we’d get it right on the next house. He refused, saying I’d never let him live it down.

Which was true.

Fifteen minutes later he’d moved all the brackets lower and re-hung the curtains, and they were perfect.

Really, childbirth was easier.

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How Men Hang Curtains

Six months ago I bought new curtains for our dining room. The cheap white sheers that are hanging there are too short and, thanks to Son, yogurt stained. Last weekend I asked Husband to hang the new curtains. After grousing, as usual, Husband went out to the garage to get some tools.

When he walked into the garage he commented that we’d had the last garage sale we’ll be having for awhile, so it was time to get it back in order (a socially acceptable translation to what was actually said).

He went through the shelves and moved things around so that they fit better and were more organized, and only threw a few things.

He got rid of empty boxes we’d been saving for moving, which doesn’t look like it’s happening soon. He told me at this rate we’d never move, and he was giving up all his dreams and accepting that we’re stuck here.

He spilled purple paint on the floor of the garage, cursed colorfully, and cleaned it up.

He organized his power tools, then started to straighten up his toolbox (one of those red Crafstsman boxes with the drawers and such). He decided he needed another toolbox. At my suggestion he went to Home Depot and got some pegboard (at $10 a much more frugal alternative).

He took out the power tools, cut the pegboard to the proper size, then hung the pegboard on the wall.

He built a table as a stand for the toolbox to provide more storage underneath for his power tools.

He lovingly organized his tool box and hung some tools on his new pegboard.

He re-organized his power tools again, storing some underneath his toolbox in the new space now provided for them.

He swept out the garage.

The garage looks great!

And can someone please tell me why a man would spend six hours organizing and straightening a garage, then throw the wax ring from a gallon of milk on the floor not two hours later?

My curtains? Still in the bag.