While we’re certainly eager to dive right in and start fixing up the house, we also know our limitations. With that in mind, we decided to start with something easy (and functional).
Ahhh yes, the closet system. Can you believe we purchased a house that didn’t even have rods in the closets? Well, the master bedroom did, but ehhh, they’re certainly nothing to write home about. But that’s a project for another day.
We decided to start with our 8-year-old daughter’s closet. After all, she’s reaching that age where clothes are sooooo important. Of course she respectfully disagrees with this statement. In fact, she can list at least two things that are more important to her than clothes: family and horses (at least she listed us first). But anyway, the closet system, and I use the word “system” quite loosely here. It’s really just a double decker closet rod and shelf. Remember, we know our limitations.
So, with measurements in hand, my husband and I headed for Lowe’s. We spent about 15 minutes ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the super deluxe closet systems then made a beeline for the ClosetMaid racks.
“Two 4-foot long racks, please.”
Ba-da-bing, ba-da-boom – we were out of there.
Not really. We took a few more spins around the store, purchased a brand-new cordless drill and then we were out of there.
At home we cleared the closet and set to work. First drilling the holes (oh the holes), then pounding in the anchor thingies for the top rack. Perfection.
This was cake – until we got to the bottom rack. You see the rack was about a quarter inch too long. Trust me. I have a three-inch-long gash in the closet wall to prove it. Not a big deal. It’s a smidge too long. We could just saw it off, no problem.
No. This is a problem. This would require a saw.You see we were the people who were just buying the cordless drill the same day we purchased the closet system we were going to install. Like we have a saw.
So anyway, my husband was able to rid the rack of its extra quarter-inch. How? I don’t know. He could have gnawed it off for all I cared. The lower rack was up. Clothes were hung. Totes were stored. Life was good.
And then, 20 minutes later, it all came to an end (a crashing one at that). Bleepity, bleep, bleep, bleep.
Now I had 12 holes (tears really) to go with that three-inch-long gash. Grrr-eat.
But then I remembered my good friend spackle. And spackle I did.
Then my husband went a little rogue on me. Forget the anchor thingies. He was going to come up with his own support system. And he did (said with just a hint of surprise).