It starts with a Loose Screw.
It ends as a Full-Blown Project.
The DIY Guy knows he can fix almost anything. He has the right tools, plenty of determination, and an unshakeable belief that the job will only take five minutes.
One loose screw leads to another problem. That one reveals something else.
Soon the whole plan has grown, the day is gone, and there is always something left on the list.
A warm, funny and painfully relatable story for anyone who has ever tried to fix something and ended up fixing half the house.
- Funny & Highly Relatable Stories
- The Perfect Gift for DIY Enthusiasts
- Warm Humor About Real-Life Projects
- Guaranteed Smiles from First to Last Page
Excerpts from the Book
It Starts With a Loose Screw
It started with a kitchen cabinet door that hung slightly crooked. Not so crooked that any normal person would call in a professional or cordon off the kitchen, but crooked enough for my partner to notice it from across the room. She stood looking at it for a moment before pointing out that it did not seem to line up with the others. Naturally, I examined both the offending door and the ones beside it before concluding that the door itself was probably straight and the rest of the kitchen was slightly out of alignment. That explanation was received without much enthusiasm, and when she asked whether I could fix the problem, I said of course I could and that the job should not take more than five minutes.
That was not boasting, because I really am handy and have built, repaired, and solved problems far more difficult than a cabinet door that has dropped a few millimeters. A cabinet door is, after all, only a flat piece of wood held in place by two hinges and a few screws, so it ought not to be capable of either surprise or serious resistance.
I began by looking for a screwdriver in the kitchen drawer where we keep things used often enough that they should not have to be carried out to the storage room. The drawer contained only a pair of scissors, two tape measures, several pens that no longer worked, and a metal bracket that no one could remember the purpose of. The next drawer held old hooks, a piece of string, loose screws, and several small metal objects that must once have been important. That is why they could not be thrown away, even though their original purpose had long since vanished.
After searching several more drawers, I finally found a screwdriver in a place where it definitely should not have been. It was not quite the right type, but it almost fit, and sometimes you have to work with the resources available. The trouble with tools that almost fit is that they usually work well enough to make you continue, but not well enough for the job to end happily.
The screw in the hinge was already worn, which clearly showed that someone had previously used the wrong tool and left the problem for me to solve.
I did not want to speculate about who that person might have been, so I pressed the screwdriver harder into the screw head and turned carefully until the screw suddenly came loose, bounced off the countertop, and disappeared behind the cabinets with a small metallic sound.
It is remarkable how quickly an important object can vanish. Drop a bread crumb and it will lie in the middle of the floor until someone steps on it. Drop a screw that is needed to hold something together, and it immediately develops both speed and a powerful desire to reach the most inaccessible place in the room.
I fetched a flashlight, discovered that the batteries were dead, and used the light on my phone instead while lying on the floor and trying to see beneath the cabinet. There was dust, an old pea, and something that might once have been a piece of pasta. The screw was about eight inches farther in than my arm could reach.
When my partner asked whether everything was going well, I said I was nearly finished. That still seemed reasonable, because five minutes can be a very flexible concept when a job involves unexpected material defects.
After several unsuccessful attempts to reach the screw, I decided to remove the entire cabinet door. It is often wiser to do a much larger job when a smaller one begins causing trouble. I loosened the second hinge and managed to take the door down without dropping it, although it did strike me lightly on the shoulder on the way.
Once the door was lying on the kitchen table, the problem became obvious. One of the screw holes had become too large, so the screw could no longer grip properly. The solution was simple and well proven. I would fill the hole with a wooden splinter and a little wood glue, snap off the part that stuck out, and then reinstall the hinge.
A piece of matchstick fit perfectly, but when I went to get the wood glue, I discovered that the bottle was at the very back of the storage room. To reach it, I first had to move a box that stood in front of another box, which in turn supported an old shelf where several unfinished projects had been left. When I pulled out the bottom box, the shelf began to lean. For several seconds I held it with one hand while trying to push the box back with my foot. On the top shelf was a project I had completely forgotten about, but which now once again seemed both important and surprisingly easy to finish. I decided it would have to wait. A person must know how to prioritize, and the cabinet door had already consumed more of the morning than planned.
When I returned to the kitchen, the door had slid off the edge of the table and was resting on the floor beside a coffee cup. I managed to save both the cup and the door before any real damage occurred.
The wood glue, however, had dried solid in the bottle, even though quality glue ought reasonably to last far longer than a few years. After more searching, I found a smaller tube in another drawer. It looked almost empty, but I managed to squeeze out enough to secure the wooden splinter in the hole.
I waited for the glue to dry and watched the worksite spread across the kitchen in the form of screwdrivers, matchsticks, loose brackets, and several screws that had nothing to do with the current project.
When I had waited long enough for my patience to begin running out, I reattached the hinge, lifted the cabinet door, and screwed it back into place. The screw gripped beautifully, and for one brief moment the job felt complete.
Then I closed the door and discovered that it still hung crooked, only now in the opposite direction. It was almost impressive that I had managed to move the fault so effectively without actually eliminating it.
I began adjusting the different hinge screws. One moved the door sideways, one moved it in and out, and a third seemed to change direction depending on which screw I had just touched. When I loosened two at once, the door dropped half an inch. When I tightened one, it shifted sideways. After several attempts, it finally ended up nearly straight.
The problem with comparing cabinet doors is that you soon discover none of them is perfectly aligned. I stepped back, examined the door beside it, then the next one, until what had begun as a small problem with one door started to look like a larger issue involving the alignment of the entire kitchen.
To obtain an objective answer, I fetched the level and placed it first against the door, then against the neighboring door, then on the countertop, and finally on the floor. The bubble gave a different answer in every location, leading to the only reasonable conclusion: the floor was sloping.
My partner seemed doubtful that the slope of the floor could explain the position of the cabinet door, but I explained that the connection was at least indirect and kept adjusting until the door was straight enough that anyone objecting would need both a level and a personal grudge.
When everything was finished, tools and loose parts covered most of the kitchen table, and the five-minute job had taken nearly half the day. Among the screws lay one lonely screw I could not identify.
It was not the one that had disappeared behind the cabinet, because that would probably remain there until the kitchen was torn out. This was another screw that had somehow been left over even though the cabinet door was attached and working.
My partner asked whether it should not be fitted somewhere. I explained that it was a spare part and placed it in the jar of unidentified screws from earlier projects. The jar was already almost full of parts from furniture and machines that worked perfectly well without them, which proves that manufacturers often use greater safety margins than are really necessary.
My partner looked at the finished cabinet door and admitted that the result was good, although the job had taken somewhat longer than the promised five minutes.
I said the important thing was not to rush. Careful work always takes time, and a job worth doing is worth doing properly.
As I began collecting the tools, I realized they really ought to be organized. It is difficult to work efficiently when the right tool is always somewhere, but never where you need it.
That would be the next project.
[...]
Instructions Are Mostly for Beginners
The shelf from the previous chapter was still lying on the floor beside a bag of screws, brackets, and the instruction booklet that had come with it when it was first purchased.
I flipped through the booklet and decided the pictures were understandable, while the text was unnecessarily small and described every obvious detail as if the shelf were an advanced bridge.
The shelf had stood there before, and since all the parts were still present, it should not be difficult to put it back together without following every numbered arrow.
I set the instructions aside, prompting my partner to ask whether it might be wiser to read them before starting.
I explained that instructions are mainly written for people who cannot see how the parts naturally want to fit together.
A shelf consists of side panels, shelves, a back panel, and several screws. The number of completely unreasonable ways to assemble them ought to be limited.
I emptied the bag onto the floor, sorted the screws by length, and placed the brackets in small groups.
Two brackets looked almost identical, although the holes differed by a few millimeters. I selected the ones that seemed most logical and began attaching the first side panel.
The first screws did not quite fit. They went in a few turns and then stopped, suggesting that they either belonged to another bracket or merely needed firmer treatment.
I tried a different type of screw, which went in much more easily, but when it was tight, the point emerged through the back.
That was not ideal, but it held the parts together, and the back would later face the wall. There was no reason to make a major issue of a few millimeters of metal.
While attaching the next section, I noticed that one side panel was upside down. The difference between top and bottom was too small to see at first but large enough that the holes no longer lined up.
To turn the panel, I had to remove the screw I had just tightened. It was firmly stuck, and the head began to wear before I stopped.
The main reason was that the screwdriver did not fit perfectly, which shows that even simple furniture assembly can be complicated by poorly designed screws.
After fetching the correct bit and working carefully, I removed the screw, turned the panel, and fitted it correctly.
The shelf began taking shape, and I moved on to the back panel, which for some reason appeared too large.
I measured both the panel and the opening, checked that the edges were aligned, and began suspecting that the structure had changed while it was disassembled.
Wood moves, panels warp, and factories can make mistakes, although it is unusual for all three to occur at the same time. My partner studied the unit for a moment and pointed out that the whole shelf was facing backward.
I turned it around, and the back panel immediately fit.
I had, of course, intended to inspect the structure from the other side anyway. You should never attach a back panel until you have established which side is actually the back.
What appeared to be a mistake was therefore a complete inspection of both assembly options.
The back panel had to be secured with a large number of small nails.
The first nail went in crooked, the second bent, and the third bounced off the panel and vanished into the rug.
I fetched a magnet to find it, but the magnet first stuck to one of the brackets and pulled several screws across the floor.
After collecting the parts again, I moved the magnet slowly over the rug until the nail appeared. I placed it in a bowl with the others, because loose small nails clearly need stronger organization than large tools.
I continued more carefully and fixed the back panel in place, although it became slightly wavy between a few of the nails.
That was probably because it had been lying loose and changed shape, but when the shelf was upright, it was hardly noticeable.
The entire unit did, however, lean slightly to one side.
My first thought was that the floor had the same problem as before, but my partner asked whether the shelf was actually finished.
I said it only needed to be anchored to the wall before any final judgment could be made.
The wall brackets were not among the parts on the floor.
I searched the bag, the bowl, and the area under the furniture, finding only screws, nails, and a small plastic piece with no obvious purpose.
The instructions might have shown where the brackets belonged, but I postponed consulting them because ordinary logical searching should still have been enough.
After a while, the brackets appeared among several other fittings I had set aside earlier, and I began measuring where the shelf should be attached.
The wall still carried pencil marks from the technical investigation in Chapter 3.
Some marks indicated studs, others possible metal objects, and several had meanings I could no longer remember.
To distinguish the new markings from the old, I drew small crosses instead of lines. This made the wall even more thoroughly documented and considerably harder to understand.
That is one disadvantage of careful systems. When several careful systems are used on the same surface, the result can resemble evidence from a complicated criminal investigation.
I placed the shelf in position, checked the mounting points, and discovered it would not be perfectly centered on the wall. My partner noticed immediately and asked whether it should be moved a few inches.
I explained that symmetry is overrated and that a slight offset often makes a room more lively.
Besides, the wall already contained several old holes and markings. Perfect centering would have required drilling in places where the construction had not yet been fully investigated.
As the shelf was pushed toward the wall, one bracket fell behind it.
Since the wall mounts were already partly installed, the unit could not be pulled out very far, and the space was too narrow for a hand.
I tried reaching it first with my fingers, then with a screwdriver, and finally with a ruler. The ruler slid behind the back panel and slowly pushed the bracket toward the side.
After several attempts, it appeared at the edge and I retrieved it without taking the furniture apart again.
When everything was nearly finished, I opened the instructions to make sure nothing important had been missed. According to Step 4, the back panel should have been installed after the wall brackets. That explained why the work behind the shelf had been unnecessarily cramped.
The instructions had therefore been useful, mainly as an after-the-fact explanation of why certain steps had taken longer than expected.
I concluded that the booklet described only one of several possible methods, while I had adapted the construction to reality.
A few screws were left over and went into the spare-parts jar with parts from earlier furniture that still functioned perfectly without them.
The small plastic piece still had no visible purpose. I chose to regard it as shipping protection, which sounds far better than unidentified spare part.
The shelf now stood securely, looked straight from the part of the room where people normally stood, and was firmly anchored to the wall.
My partner asked why a job that should have been simple had taken most of the day. I explained that standard instructions assume ideal conditions, while real walls, floors, screws, and old furniture have opinions of their own.
The result was good precisely because I had not followed the instructions blindly, but solved each problem as it appeared.
The booklet went into the drawer with other instructions for future use.
It contained manuals for machines and furniture that had long since disappeared, but it is difficult to throw away a document that might one day explain why an unidentified plastic piece was saved.
I looked around, confirmed that the shelf was finally where it belonged, and declared the job complete.
It had taken more time than planned, but a DIY guy does not give up merely because reality refuses to follow the instructions.
- Quote paper
- J Mattsson (Author), 2026, The DIY Guy, Munich, GRIN Verlag, https://www.grin.com/document/1763303
