This one’s about holes in the wall, agile mindsets, and not knowing what you’re doing until you do.

There’s a shelf I’ve been meaning to hang for weeks.

Okay months.

Hanging a shelf is like building a support system, it takes planning, the right anchors, and the patience to start over when it all crumbles.

The instructions were simple, and I’m reasonably handy. But somehow, despite good intentions, careful planning, and a decent drill and level… I still got it wrong.

More than once.

What started as a small project turned into a full-blown architectural battle with my wall. I patched holes. I repainted. I watched youtube videos. I made peace with the mess and tried again.

While prepping for another go at it, I went to buy a new can of wall texture spray because the one I found in the garage had lost its will to live and just spit out clumps like a grumpy llama.

My local Ace only had giant cans, enough to texture the Taj Mahal. I asked if they had smaller ones.

The clerk said no, then offered this:

“Use the whole can. It won’t last anyway. Spray it in the corners. Baseboards. Gaps. Anywhere. Keep critters out. Just use it up”

Um ….
What?
I nodded. I smiled. I did not ask follow-up questions.

I’m still not sure what she thought was in the can.
Foam? Spackle? 
Rat poison?

I walked out thinking: this is how most advice works.
Part experience, part imagination, and just enough misplaced confidence to keep you from trying it.

Eventually, I got it done. 
And even better: it’s level. Perfectly level.

But let’s zoom in a little. There she is. That one recalcitrant screw. That’s as far as I can get her. She’s giving “I tried my best with what I had” energy.

And that uncommitted wall anchor in the background? A ghost of methods past.

And yet, the shelf? She’s solid.

And ... isn’t that just life? If that’s not a metaphor for advocacy and DIY perseverance, I don’t know what is.

It reminded me of something Rick said years ago, back when he was still inside and coaching me through the early days of Adopt an Inmate. I had to redo something I’d built that wasn’t working.

“That’s called agile methodology,” he said.

It’s a good thing, he told me.

(My) translation:
“That was a shitty way to do it. Let’s try something else.”

We’re taught to equate mistakes with failure.
But growth? Growth is drywall dust and painter’s tape and trying again with better anchors.

Eventually, I finished the job. Here’s the “after” photo that hides the errant screw completely.

And here’s the thing: behind every picture-perfect space, there’s always a recalcitrant screw.
Something unsightly but functional, and only you know the backstory.

And that’s okay. Maybe it’s even the point.

Behind the shelf, there are holes I patched.
Behind the polish, there’s a mess I worked through.
And behind the level bubble… there’s a lesson.

Success isn’t about doing something perfectly.
It’s about making just enough wrong decisions to land in the right place.

Coming Soon Sometime: Shelf Life, Part II
Now that the wall is patched and the shelf is steady, what deserves to live there?
(An essay on curation, memory, and the weight of beautiful things.)

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