Six months earlier, I would have been too unsteady to risk it, and tilting my head to do the repair would have brought on a surge of vertigo and violent sickness.
A year ago, I wouldn't even have attempted it – or cared: I was lying on the sofa, intermittently vomiting and being pumped full of industrial-strength antibiotics to see off a mysterious brain infection that had nearly killed me.
It took four doctors a week to realise I had something worse than an ear infection, by which time I needed emergency surgery, followed by six weeks of intravenous drugs.
I returned to work in October and my health continues to improve, but I still struggle with horrible vertigo when I walk and move my head – it's like being on a funfair ride, but minus the fun and you can't step off.
The experience was comical – it felt like a cruel gameshow – but the result was partially reassuring: everything was working within normal parameters and my lingering symptoms should improve, if not totally pass, in time.
Having a catastrophic illness (the term gives me a slight thrill) is an interesting experience if it doesn't see you off, albeit one you wouldn't wish for.
I now think of it like a stockmarket chart after a crash: the line of health rises from the trough in painfully slow, uneven jags, it plateaus and slips back.
Headway, the charity that supports people affected by brain injury, estimates there are around 500,000 people of working age in the UK living with long-term disability as a result of trauma from, say, a fall or a car accident – and that's not counting people who have had meningitis, haemorrhages, tumours or strokes (the last alone affects 450,000 people a year in England).
"It's notoriously difficult to get hold of stats for brain injury, for a number of different reasons," says the association's Luke Griggs.
People's stories are different, obviously, but have common themes.
"There's no one route to recovery," says Griggs.
Griggs recalls a patient who described recovery as "like eating an elephant – incredibly daunting at first, but if you break it down piece by piece, eventually you'll conquer it".
Griggs likens it to traffic halted by a motorway pileup: you must take an exit and rejoin at a later junction; some people take a shortcut, but others get lost in the countryside.
Part of that was that I had a brain injury.
Now, having reconsidered his priorities, he works four days a week for Headway East London.
You see a lot of people with brain injuries returning to work too soon and that's possibly the worst thing they can do because mood is a huge factor in brain injury recovery.
I'm an awful lot happier than I was before.
I'm a lot healthier person.
Dancing Tango helped aid Sarah Cardwell's recovery from a cyst in her brain.
Teaching in the evening meant the days were just knocked out completely." Ah, the tiredness.
John Horan, a 42-year-old barrister specialising in employment and discrimination, battled it for years after he suffered a brain injury when he was 31: he had a major stroke on the eve of the millennium.
He went back to work nine months later, but it was just paperwork while he learned to cope with public transport again.
The Bar Council has a disability equality policy but he thinks it could do better.
That's about it.
The urge to get back to work can get in the way of recovery, but can also be a powerful motivator – it certainly lifted my spirits after four months staring at the living room walls.
For Cardwell, it was key.
It felt like I could recover faster because I already knew how to do those things."
"It was me hobbling backwards three steps towards the sofa.
It wasn't to music but it was still tango.
It counted a lot.
It had been achey for a long time, maybe a year or so, and one day I did this movement and it didn't hurt, it was natural."
It was horrible."
The people who do thoughtful, kind, unexpected things, who bring lunch, send a homemade pie or arrive in the evening to cook.
The steadfast friends who slog through it all with you offering cheery support.
TV personality Richard Hammond, who suffered serious head injuries in a 2006 crash, said last year: "From the very outset of the recovery process, I'd get to the end of the week and think, God, I'm better, I'm fixed and then I'd get to the end of the next week and look over the previous one and think, bloody hell, I wasn't but now I am, and that process would go on, and it goes on now."