I’m not a craft lady. Do more harm than good. With me you have a certainty: everything I touch…turns to dust. If I have to knock a nail into a wall, I do not make a hole. No, I dig the Gran Sasso tunnel. And in much less time. I change the light bulb and I break the chandelier. One damage after another. As Mick Jagger screams “I can’t get no satisfaction”, I can’t get no satisfaction in one of these do-it-yourself works.
So, young hostesses, if you are like me, a huge klutz, a do-it-yourself indomitable inept, curvy like a piece of nougat, forget the handsome type, the intelligent or rich man, generally superlative idiots who if they dismantle the clock radio, they do not know how to reassemble it and when they move a nightstand, they’ll get the hernia.
If you do not want hosting gives you shreds of hell, if you do not want to give a million bucks to a craftsman and in a month or two everything goes back to how it was before, grab a do-it-yourself kind of guy that knows how to use the drill. You misunderstood me! Not the metaphorical drill, merry wives of Windsor. Exactly the one with the bits. A primitive caveman who, with the club in his hand, puts up those shelves you wanted and fixes stuff around your house before the arrival of new guests. Mamma mia, see that satisfaction.