Can we still be friends if I tell you I think I’m usually, almost always, pretty good chance, inevitably….
99.9999999 % of the time.
Just ask my family.
But every now and then?
Every so often?
Once in a blue moon….
….a little wrong shows up and surprises me.
Are you ready for true confessions?
Are you ready for a little story about a girl who thought she knew it all?
Grab some refreshment.
I’m eating humble pie.
Several weeks ago at a thrift store we found this.
A cabinet that needed a little TLC and some paint and a makeover so we took it home and dusted it off (literally) and changed it up.
It looks like this.
It’s in the corner of my office and I came up with the brilliant idea to use it to organize all the office supplies that were downstairs and in the closet.
So we changed up the inside a little and now?
It looks like this.
See those cork panels?
I came up with the idea of adding cork to the inside of the doors to have a place to help me organize my thoughts.
The ones that are always chasing rabbits.
The cork panels came in a kit from Walmart with stickers and adhesive and instructions for applying them to any surface.
I tore open the package and ripped off the plastic and added a few adhesive tabs to the back and marched over to the cabinet and tossed open the doors.
My husband stared at me from across the room with an anxious look.
“Aren’t you going to read the instructions? Aren’t you going to measure? Don’t you need to figure out where the middle of the door is?” he said as the panic crept into his voice.
What in the world was he talking about?
I stared at him in disbelief.
“Who has time for all that?” I said turning around to the doors clutching the tile piece in my hand.
I eyeballed the door and squinted to make sure I was close and promptly stuck the tile onto the door.
And then another and then another and another.
Five minutes and all the cork was in place on the inside of the doors.
HE ALMOST HAD A COME APART.
He looked at me in disbelief.
“Just like that?” he said incredulously. “You are literally sticking the tiles on the door just like that? What if they fall off? What if they are crooked? What if they don’t stick?”
“Yep. Just like that,” I replied. “It’s so much easier that way.”
And then I smiled and laughed and said these famous last words, “After all? Instructions are overrated.”
Then I organized the rest of the cabinet and shut the doors and walked away.
And thought to myself.
“KariAnne. You. Are. Amazing.”
The next day we bought the cutest push pins and this tape to hang things up on our newly installed cork tiles.
I had notes from the twins.
And inspirational quotes.
And photos of projects that I want to work on.
All ready to hang up on the inside of the doors.
I walked up to the doors and stood in front of them with a note in one hand and a handful of tacks in the other.
Slowly I opened one door.
And then the other.
From inside the cabinet, something drifted down and fell on my toes.
You guessed it.
After all, you are brilliant and intelligent and are probably right more times than I am.
It was the tiles.
They weren’t stuck any more. They weren’t attached to the inside of the cabinet. They weren’t on the doors.
Not. A. Single. One.
Instead? They were all over the floor.
I looked at my husband.
And he looked at me.
To his credit? He didn’t say a single word.
He went and got his drill and tiny screws and measured the doors.
And installed the tiles so they look like this.
Every tile perfectly installed.
Perfectly in place.
Perfectly in line.
Perfection on every door.
The moral of this cork-laden tale?
Instructions are there for a reason.
Measuring is good for the soul.
No one is ever right as much as they think they are.
And the best decision I ever made….
PS Most of the photos in this post were taken by the incredible Kenna Lyn Photography.