“DIM”. = Do (or Doing, Done, Damaging and/or Destroying) It Myself.
Okay it’s an acronym, but still counts as word generation.
“DIM” is my own version of “DIY” and its derivatives. A similar but different term for a common and popular set of activities, describing to others how much my efforts differ from those with a normal level of practical skill and competency.
I must be careful not to slip into self-parody and turn self-deprecation into an art form. Nor do I seek sympathy – although my family need it at times – since I am still smiling.
Why now, you may ask?
Well, I had a day of DIM on Monday and thought I had done so well. I took ages, but removed and re-fitted a couple of kitchen cupboards and worktops. This involved drilling the right number of holes, so everything could be screwed in place to be secure and reasonably level.
Then I went to start making parsnip soup and found the cooker was dead. I looked at my screw holes. Several tracked vertically down from from beneath the cooker supply socket, pretty much along the line I would follow if I was an electric cable buried in plaster.
I then remembered one particular hole where there was a bit more resistance to the drill than I expected. I could have pulled the drill out, chipped out the surrounding plaster and exposed the metal cable duct with its minor surface damage, but I didn't. Instead I leaned harder on the drill and through it went.
John Spark got me out of trouble again, with an evening visit to confirm my diagnosis.
Why now, you may ask?
Well, I had a day of DIM on Monday and thought I had done so well. I took ages, but removed and re-fitted a couple of kitchen cupboards and worktops. This involved drilling the right number of holes, so everything could be screwed in place to be secure and reasonably level.
Then I went to start making parsnip soup and found the cooker was dead. I looked at my screw holes. Several tracked vertically down from from beneath the cooker supply socket, pretty much along the line I would follow if I was an electric cable buried in plaster.
I then remembered one particular hole where there was a bit more resistance to the drill than I expected. I could have pulled the drill out, chipped out the surrounding plaster and exposed the metal cable duct with its minor surface damage, but I didn't. Instead I leaned harder on the drill and through it went.
John Spark got me out of trouble again, with an evening visit to confirm my diagnosis.
It helped a great deal that the repairs needed after Monday's Kitchen Drilling Incident were inexpensive and minimal in terms of mess. Of my ten randomly placed holes in the walls, only one had struck a wire. Just. A whisker to the left and I would have been safe and my ignorance would have continued.
Instead, I see this incident as a positive one. I have learned something (blindingly obvious, it has to be said) and view the time spent on repeating the work I did on Monday not as wasted, but invested.
In addition, I have supported two small businesses (John's and the electrical suppliers) and given Stella another story to tell after the camera-in-the-toilet one has run its course.
Instead, I see this incident as a positive one. I have learned something (blindingly obvious, it has to be said) and view the time spent on repeating the work I did on Monday not as wasted, but invested.
In addition, I have supported two small businesses (John's and the electrical suppliers) and given Stella another story to tell after the camera-in-the-toilet one has run its course.
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