So a couple of weeks ago, I got the bright idea to change everything in my room.

So I did what any self respecting single girl would do…

I went on Pinterest and Google and began to look up tons of different ideas, and joy smeared all over crackers – I found ’em.

Lots of ’em.

Tons of ’em.

And all of ’em claimed to be simple DIY.

Yeah, EFF-ing right.


DIY (Do It Yourself) – translates into WE (which I’ll explain farther down in my tirade against all things DIY) did it ourselves.

DIY. Such a cute little word.

I used to think it was cute.

And brilliant.

And awesome.

Easy. Do-able.

But now…

Now that word, that isn’t even a word, no longer conveys happy-joyful-I-can-pull-this-off-I-am-woman-hear-me-roar feelings.

Yeah, no.

Just no. Big time no.

DIY was created by women who are married – run poor unsuspecting husbands!! If your wife brings a DIY project to your attention – just run!!! Don’t dawdle, don’t nod your head in agreement with your once wonderful, but now, psychotic wife. She just went to insane and she’s about to buy a one way ticket to DIY hell and you are flying buddy with her.

So, seriously, spouses, RUN!!

If you read this warning and choose not to – well, all I gotta say is – SUCKER!! I feel no empathy for your pain – you were warned.

So strike one for me on my path to DIY – the home improvement addition. I’ve got no husband to inflict this horrible, gut wrenching pain on.

Next item that defines DIY…minions.

You must have minions.


Unfortunately if you haven’t been pushing out little hellions in hopes of having your own little work force (slave labor, anyone?) or you know keeping the earth nicely populated. Then you could be like me – barren and without a team of minions to call your own and order around. (I’m kidding…kinda…)


That’s when you pull out the big guns. You go after those nearest and dearest. Doesn’t matter who they are, they could be friends, family, roommates, unsuspecting strangers that you kidnap off the street…etc., etc., you get the point.

In my case. They were my grandparents.

Now here is the key to DIY and the absolute truth behind the deception of that three lettered word that sends my stomach into a free fall.

Do not and I repeat, DO NOT, try to do anything by yourself that has the hellashish DIY attached to it.

Make sure that you have roped other unsuspecting victims into your plans of pain. When embarking to DIY hell, you do not go alone. Ever. Strength in numbers and all that jazz…great now I’ve got the image of jazz hands in my head…tra la la la…

Okay, I’m back and I may or may not have paused to do the epic jazz hands. πŸ™‚


I could be just an epic drama queen. But I’m fairly certain I’m not.

I think.

Or it could be that I momentarily lost my marbles when I saw DIY and saw it for multiple objects contained in the awesomeness of my bunker-ish room.

Which I totally did.

I lost my mind.

I’ve always said that I’m an all or nothing person. Well, what I just did graphically shows who I am – in black, chalkboard paint, and periwinkle glory.

My DIY was painting SIX bookcases, ONE dresser, and ONE nightstand. PLUSTWELVE drawers and however many shelves go in the bookcases … I’m waaaayyyy tooooooo tired right now to count them – math makes my head hurt on a good day, on a day where my head feels like its going to fall off, I have bruises in places that I haven’t had them since I was a kid, and my hands have permanently taken on a carpal tunnel like claw – well, math just doesn’t exist right now.

So to sum it all up.

Yes. My name is Echo and I went insane.


It’s bad.

Really bad.

DIY should no longer stand for hopeful feelings of completing a project easily and by yourself. There should be warning signs – everywhereall who enter will wish they were dead!!! Turn back now, before it’s too late to escape hopeful feelings of wishing for a swift death.

And if you have no spouse and no minions?? You are so screwed. Plain and simple.

There was nothing and I repeat nothing solitary about the insaneness that exploded everywhere, on every available surface and inch of floor and including my bedroom walls. Nothing.

This is where DIY is a deceptive little bugger. It is not a YOURSELF kinda’ thing. Ever.

Thankfully I was blessed with the MOST amazing, wonderful, fantastic (are there anymore words to describe them? Yup! They are all those words! Cuz’ again my brain hurts and thinking up happy praise worthy words right now is beyond my capability – so all the words will just have to do!) GRANDPARENTS!!

Without them – this project of crazy would have me want to jump to my death off the roof and do it screaming, while pulling my hair out!!

I could have done this project by myself but it would have taken me months, no years. Billions of ’em. I would no longer just feel like I have carpal tunnel, I would actually have carpal tunnel. I would be on medication for insanity and be drooling on a bib, no longer able to form words or thoughts.

Thanks to my Grama and my Gpa, this insane project is mostly done.

I’ll do another post explaining the intricacies of my epic DIY adventure and I’ll even have pictures!!


Doing a happy dance and jazz hands, don’t forget the jazz hands πŸ˜‰


Black Sheep Girl


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