In the bathroom, there is a narrow closet lined with shelves. I am the lord and master of one of them, and one of them proves not enough to satisfy my appetite for the lording and mastering of storage spaces. Every morning is nothing short of miraculous as I manage to extract my tube of toothpaste without sending the hair gel floor-ward. This was not always the case, and so it is an accomplishment worthy of such acknowledgement.

Well, Brenda called to me as I moved lackadaisically down the hall yesterday afternoon. She pointed to a digital image of a storage unit on her monitor. Apparently, the skinny cardboard box delivered the other day contains the parts of its materialization. "If you help me put it together, you can have ALL of the storage space inside," she promised. Pulsing hearts thudded from my pupils and I agreed.

I am quite handy in my way. The doors in my college dormitory were heavy, and ours was apparently hung crookedly, because it had a need, if left unchecked, to swing shut. "And good RIDDANCE!" the privacy-minded would exclaim, but we had a particular fondness for the inhabitants across the hall and would often shout back and forth between rooms. We needed a doorstop. Granted, you can buy doorstops, but what reason do the bright minds of tomorrow have to go to a hardware store when there's always a case of Mountain Dew in residence?

It was a fine idea, really very bright, except for this one tiny problem: we consumed Mountain Dew like flame does kindling. In no time at all, the ever-diminishing weight of the 24-pack was no match for the antisocial door. It would slam against the jam and send the green cardboard cube scuttling across the hall. Then I, shrouded in the greatness of nineteen years of existence, devised this genius plan involving a shoestring, a doorknob, and a towel rack. The ramifications of my cleverness were sobering, and I questioned my place in the realm of M.I.S. when I had such skill in preventing the closing of a door.

And then I married a programmer. This was daunting on many levels, but mainly because I knew that the dexterity of the relationship would largely fall upon me. I have never seen such looks of abject fear and panic cross my father's face as there were when it was revealed that I was the handy one of our union. It's probably good that he didn't know about that sink that we avoided using for over six months while I ruminated on how to unclog the drain...