DIY unto others as you would (nt) unto yourself. rather like other people's children (people you share 1-2 degrees of separation with, not random stranger's screaming offspring at the supermarket checkout) it is significantly more gratifying when you have a nice time and then hand the toddler back, or leave your friend's freshly painted living room, knowing that you do not have to wake up tomorrow (or ever,) and be confronted with flourescent avacado. i enjoy not owning the responsibility (a statement i use with some frequency) of a broken window or a 5 year old's femur, of course the associated guilt is balanced out when there is no shared blood type or mortgage.
in the past month i have dug and planted grass (which as of yesterday actually looked like it grew), painted a garage, painted an office, and glued and nailed trim. today i mulched a garden; i am queen of mulching, practiced in the fine art in fact. what better way for an adult to look like a mature, responsible individual (gardening is the work of old people and married couples) than to dig and squish in the dirt? however an obsessive compulsive (myself) who mulches, is not an efficient worker. following the mulching i was put in charge of potting and planting a colourful assortment of pansies (i think it was assumed my possession of ovaries qualified me for such a task). i have realized that those individuals who are talented and creative in the kitchen (not me) also possess green thumbs (again, not me). if i had a dog's ability to hear i am sure i would have heard those pansies screaming in agony at the abuse being meted out by my clumsy hands.
one day i will own my own home; the garden will be a desert wasteland of cactus, surrounded by a border of weeds. the interior decor will no doubt have martha stewart rolling in her grave, as it will be that long until i get one of those mortgage thingies.