Steeped in Sass

Nailed It

LaShelle

I was determined to hang those flower boxes. I wanted to see the fruit of my labor blooming right outside my windows—colorful, wild, and just how I imagined them. It was the last thing I thought about before sleep and the first thing on my mind when I woke up. What to plant, what colors to pair, what joy they’d bring.

Relentless. On a mission.

So off we went—Izzy and I, in her SUV. The same SUV that, unbeknownst to us, would die in the parking lot before the trip was over.

As we pulled in, Izzy asked, “Do we need a cart?”
I gave her a look. “Izzy. We’re here for me. I’m buying flowers. Have you met me?”
“Cart,” she nodded. “Maybe two.”

We wandered toward the hardware section, me running through my mental list. Rob had taken the electric screwdriver to work. I didn’t trust myself with a nail gun. That left me with my old reliable: the hammer. And let’s be honest—some women walk into these places like warriors. I am not one of them.

She flagged down a bearded employee. “Excuse me, sir? Where’s the nail aisle?”

“Depends,” he said without missing a beat. “What size you lookin’ for?”

I, with full confidence and zero clarity, replied: “Big ones.”

He blinked. “There’s a lot of big ones. How big?”

“Really big ones.” I held up a finger like I was measuring some sacred relic.

Izzy started laughing quietly behind me.

“What are you planning to do with them?” he asked.

“Bang them in,” I said. “All the wood.”

Izzy snorted.

“How big is the wood?” he asked, still trying to hold it together.

“It’s big,” I said, realizing too late how far I’d gone. “There’s several of them… I’ve gotta bang ’em in deep.”

Izzy’s face was red. She had actual tears running down her cheeks. And there I was, a married woman, miming hammer motions in the middle of the aisle, while this poor employee tried to stay professional.

He cleared his throat. “So you need nails long enough to bang the wood in deep enough for your project.”

“Yes!” I said, too far in to turn back now. “Exactly. They gotta be hung right, you know?” I gasped. “The flower boxes!”

He chuckled. “Then maybe… start with something smaller than railroad spikes.”

Izzy leaned in, whispering, “You know, it’s not the size of the nails, LaShelle. It’s the motion of the ocean.”

I didn’t miss a beat: “Izzy, as a married woman, I can promise you—that’s a lie.”

We barely made it to the flower section without collapsing from laughter.

But the joke was on me. When I got home, I found out exactly why nails that size were a terrible idea. They were too long, too thick, too wrong for the project and my poor flower box paid the price.

To top it off, my best friend Natasha decided to christen my carpentry failure with the world’s smallest hammer as a Mother’s Day gift.

I’m keeping it forever.
Every flower box has a backstory—and sometimes, it involves a lot of banging.

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Published by LaShelle

Tea drinking, mountain living, wife, and mother. Writing and photographing my way through through the south.

21 thoughts on “Nailed It”

  1. Haha. Since I’m a male, people often make assumptions that I know what I’m doing when it comes to tools and woodwork. Little do they know. Gender doesn’t determine ability when it comes to home projects. I can automatically double or triple the time it should take to complete a project.😊 When we first married and didn’t have any money, I muddled my way through. Now, I’m just as happy paying somebody.

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  4. You nailed it girl. 🤣 Totally something we would all do. I love that you tackle things like this and then share the stories. 🩷

    Diane

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      2. Thank you! My recent health update has been posted because it’s too long to explain 😂 but I really appreciate the thoughtfulness. I’m looking forward to catching up on your blog! I’ve been revamping mine like crazy. I’ve written a lot and had plenty of ideas but putting everything together is annoying 😅

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  8. LaShelle!

    I cannot tell you how happy I was to see you in my inbox. It doesn’t show because I am two weeks late in responding but life and all that. I then saw you posted a few more so I decided to come back to the beginning of your return.

    BIG nails, the girl wants… That guy deserves an Oscar for managing to not laugh at you while we here, reading this, are howling!!

    Too funny.

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