In 2011, after we moved into this sunny house with its many windows covered by beautiful Hunter Douglas blinds, my son pulled on the window blind cord in his bedroom and when it didn’t open or close or whatever, he pulled harder until the plastic end cap broke.
I emailed the Hunter Douglas company and asked for replacement parts. They promptly sent me brackets. But I didn’t need brackets. I needed an end cap.
Months passed.
I drove thirty minutes to the Hunter Douglas store. I brought the broken part and the lady there rifled through a box of parts, comparing parts to what I’d brought in and came up with an end cap. She couldn’t get the broken part out of the cord mechanism thing but sent me on my way. When I got home, I put that thing into the freezer and after some time, managed to wiggle it out.
But the part was wrong. I needed a left end cap but I had come away with a right end cap.
Months passed.
I drove back to the store, showed them the part, told them I needed left and had right–and in some kind of strange sleight of hand trick, the ladies at the store got sidetracked about whether I’d paid for the part before and they noticed the part I brought in had a small crack and somehow, I thought I got a new part but when I got home I discovered they’d given me the exact same wrong part.
Months passed.
I drove to the store again. Explained I still had a right and I needed a left end cap. She produced the left end cap.
I went home, so excited and tried to put the end cap on the head rail and found that it was the wrong shape. Very slightly wrong, but wrong nonetheless and impossible to use.
Months passed.
I emailed the company again. I begged for help.
Yesterday, the correct end cap arrived.
I reassembled the blind, pushing the end cap into place, hammering it gently.
Then, I hung up the blinds. I. Hung. Up. The. Blinds.
I am woman, hear me roar.
From broken to fixed in seventeen months. (Why rush into these things?)
Next up? I am determined to replace the pump in my outdoor fountain. So far, I’ve purchased two wrong pumps. According to my calculations, I’m right on track. One more wrong pump and another fourteen months, and I should have it fixed right up.
Actual Unretouched Photo 
This is right up my alley. I also understand the notion of letting a work project age to perfection. Just ask my wife, who never lets me forget that it took two years for me to put up the lights in the family room ceiling, and that was several years ago… and the ceiling still looks like a Frankenstein patch job.
LikeLike
You are amazing!
This post reminds me of the day I came over to see you on the living room carpet, surrounded by plastic bags of screws and other tiny pieces, putting together your new lawn mower. When you had completed that job, I think you were the one to then mow the lawn.
Also? Seeing your head underneath the kitchen cabinet, trying to fix the garbage disposal… or were you replacing the elbow pipe so the stuck drain would work after that fantastic Thanksgiving Dinner YOU cooked the previous day?
These things will all look good on your resume, should you decide to apply for a job on, say “Dirty Jobs”. Somebody has to do them. You qualify.
LikeLike
In preparation for my 14 year old to start dating (in 2 years when she can drive at 16 and 3 months–yikes!!), I read “Reviving Ophelia” and according to the author ultra feminine women are never as happy as more androgynous so I’m the spare parts finder and mostly fixer of things broken I will be teaching my daughters this skill too.
Have you seen or read “Fried Green Tomatoes” by Fannie Flag?
Tawanda!!
LikeLike
This made me laugh. Sounds exactly like my fix-it projects. Let’s just say that my curtains are still nailed (yes, I said nailed) in place because I haven’t fixed the curtain rod yet. But it’s only been a year, so obviously there is still time. 🙂
LikeLike