It started innocently enough. One quiet Sunday afternoon, I decided to fix a “minor” problem in my apartment: the kitchen cabinet door was hanging a little loose. A small wobble, barely noticeable — unless, of course, you’re me and possess the blessed combination of excessive confidence and absolutely no mechanical skill.

I had recently bought myself a toolbox from Amazon. A gift to myself. A reward, if you will, for surviving an intense week of work, social obligations, and the existential c...