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To be a manual man… why not?

I think I'm pretty cool when I write a comedy story or share a video with a remark I'm pretty proud of. Even a good Facebook status with a couple of likes and comments makes me appear a smile of sastifaction instantly. But since 2 weeks, the alarm of my alarm clock has been replaced by "Marcel, MARCEL, pass-moé the hammer that I vââârge for 30 minutes without stopping!" "Or" Maurice, bring me the saw to cut the mud! "Or the neighbor (always in a dressing gown and curlers no matter the time of day) who shouts" Calvase, it's 7:00, can you stop making noise, I can hear the handsome Gildor Roy to tivi? ". Positive point, I am cramped when I wake up; negative point, I lack sleep and have less concentration to write. So I thought to myself that during all these renovations, I should become a manual man too.

Why not ?

For me, manual work goes hand in hand with "putting together an IKEA piece of furniture". Listening only to my desire for accomplishment, I went with my girlfriend to this store which makes all ladies dream. I see you coming, no I didn't go on a pickup while listening to CKAC like a real construction guy, I rather went in Yaris with a Cat Power record while crying my life. We buy furniture to assemble, I try to take the bigger ones (it looks more impressive), back to the apartment, I take the boxes to the top of the stairs watching the construction guys to tell them with my eyes "Hey guys, I'm in your gang now!" ". By surprise, I read in their eyes "Welcome to gang, big!" I even envisioned pats on the back and hugs to welcome me into the world of manual guys. We open the box, we take out the twenty-five pieces and the bag of 150 screws / nails. I shout to my girlfriend: “Manon, MANON! [Editor's note: We changed our names to make it more true; I'm Sârge] I'm going to get our construction kit. I had previously opened all the windows so that my new colleagues and the neighbor (who was to listen to the Young and the Restless on TVA) did not miss the stage for a moment. I'm dusting off the hammer and the retro electric drill (owned by my dad, I'd rather invest in a Mac cordless mouse than go to Canadian Tire and buy all the tools in the world for my garage, if only I had one. garage, I don't have a garage ... I'm rewriting garage, it's the fun Garage, yes I put a capital G because that might be my son's name one day, do you have a problem?) . I look at the instruction book to say to my Manon "We have work to do, my little wife, eh?" I almost wanted to take out my Crayolas to color the guys in the book, but I kept that to myself.

So we start to screw, to hammer, to put the little pieces of not solid wood in the holes, trying not to break them because there are no small pieces of backup wood. By step 8 (out of 28) I was already sweaty. Listening only to my courage and my tenacity, I finish step 8 in full before telling Manon "Don't you like me cooking dinner for you while you finish the furniture?" ". It was at this precise moment, seeing Manon, the pencil on her ear, a nail clamped between her lips, the sleeves of her sweater pulled up, holding the drill in one hand and in the other the gadget that is used to install the straight stuff (a 24 '' Mastercraft Fatmax level in aluminum, thanks Google!) that I actually realized that:

1. My girlfriend is more manual than me;
2. I am not the one who kills the spiders here;
3. Cooking is really fun when you don't have to put together an Ikea piece of furniture.

I told myself later that I could have been a mover and put refrigerators up the stairs with my chest, or be a mechanic and change a wheel like one slips his friends in circles on Google+, but I admit that finally I really prefer to write and find the right formula that will make you click on the button like of this article, even though I lack sleep.

“Heille Manon, MANOOOOOON, the pizza pockets are ready, drop the cabinet and bring you back, sti! "