What is it about DIY that makes someone into a lunatic? The strenous exercise? The “this bloody screw doesn’t go in this bloody hole, bloody hell….bloody!”? Or those useless set of instructions that may as well be written in Dutch and nine times out of ten are written in Dutch? Whatever it is, add a screwdriver, a hammer and an electric drill and it could very well get ugly. Today I experienced the DIY debacle first hand. There were puffs, pants and yelps, and once we got the first packet of nails open, it got substantially worse. Faces tend to contort to such bizarre expressions and the mouth changes in such abnormal ways that it’s like being stuck in the Hall of Mirrors, except no one is laughing. Or dares to laugh. To make matters increasingly worse, there’s always a supervisor/spectator. You know the one, sits there and gives instructions, annoying you so much that you want to crawl into that wardrobe you just assembled and close the doors behind you. The likelihood of it’s collapse being a great comfort at this point. Yes, I believe DIY is one of the more evil acronyms and tomorrow I get to do it all over again.