I Said I Didn’t Need Help

I don’t know what it is about me, but the second someone tells me how to do something, I immediately decide I’m not doing it that way.

So when he said, “You might want to measure that first,” I was already over it.

It was just a curtain rod. Not a big project. I’ve hung things before. I didn’t need a whole step-by-step breakdown like I was assembling furniture from scratch.

I told him, “I got it.”

He just nodded and walked away, which honestly made me feel even more confident.

I eyeballed it, marked where I thought it should go, and started drilling.

The first hole looked fine.

The second one… a little off.

By the time I stepped back, the whole thing was slightly crooked. Not enough to fix easily, but enough that you could absolutely see it if you looked for more than two seconds.

I stood there staring at it, trying to convince myself it wasn’t that bad.

It was that bad.

I tried adjusting it. That made it worse.

Now I had extra holes in the wall and a curtain rod that somehow looked even more crooked than before.

I just stood there for a minute, debating if I could pretend it was “good enough.”

I couldn’t.

So I called him.

He walked in, looked at the wall, then looked at me. No reaction. No smirk. Nothing.

Just grabbed the level, fixed the spacing, patched the holes, and had it straight in maybe five minutes.

I watched the whole thing in silence.

When he was done, I said, “Don’t say it.”

He didn’t.

But he didn’t have to.

My husband was right.