I think that I've made it pretty clear that I don't like to fix things. It's not that I don't like to nurture or whatever... I just don't know how to really fix things.
Well, that's not entirely true. When somebody shows me, I still don't really do a very good job.
Years ago, my generous Brother-in-Law was kind enough to spend a summer helping me frame and drywall the basement. It was a frikking disaster, at least from my point of view.
Dawna fell off of the ladder attempting to help me hold the sheetrock, and she fell into a tub of drywall screws.
Later, while mudding, I became so enraged (like a berzerker) that I was seriously considering running through the walls, head first, like that was going to help.
Sometimes I have the sense of Mr. Minotaur.
