My idea of making home repairs is to hold a ladder for someone and hand them a light bulb, hammer, or a screwdriver. That gives you an idea about how far I was out of my comfort zone when I removed our old toilet seat and installed a new one.

I probably wouldn’t have tackled the job, but the old seat was cracked into on one side, and each time I sat down it bit me, and visitors, on their left cheek.

When I found the right screwdriver, and my rubber gardening gloves, I got up closer to that toilet than I ever had during flu season.

After a wardrobe change from pale blue jeans and a baby blue shirt, I cleaned the toilet inside and out before I started to take off the old seat.

After cursing the person who’d screwed it on so tight I gave up, then gritted my teeth, tried it again. After something fell off under the stool, I finally got it unscrewed.

Duh! That piece on the floor had been attached to the top screw.

Did I mention I’m not mechanically inclined, and the only thing I can do with my hands is type?

The other screw took more time, and my back was killing me from stooping so long.

Finally! The seat was off.

A couch break was long overdue, and after an hour, or two, I decided to unwrap the new seat.

It took 10 minutes to get it out of the box, then another 20 to read the instructions, and remove the plastic screws from its bag.

I finally wrapped my head around how tab A and B went together and fit onto C, and C did not attach to A and B because C was on the commode.

That called for more bending over and almost standing on my head to get the screw on the right side, then I had to get up close and personal to the sink so I could get the left one screwed in.

I soon learned that I shouldn’t have drunk so much Dr Pepper while on my break, but managed to get the new seat fastened just in time to christen it.

The next day the new seat turned into a rocking chair, and later that week a bucking bronc.

I bent over to check the screws.

Yes, I had two loose screws, so I bent over to re-tighten them, then kneeled, and ended up cross-legged on the floor. I grabbed hold of the commode for leverage, and was able to stand after a couple of tries.

That’s when I decided my rodeo and repair days were over. I dusted off my granny nightgown, and took my place at my favorite seat in the house: on the couch in front of the TV.

That’s a close tie with my number one and number two seat, but there’s no TV in there.