Tool Time

When I was younger and thought about the man I’d marry, I had a picture in my head. He’d be a little dumb because I figured most guys were a little dumb. He’d like sports. He’d be the fixer in the house and take out the garbage. He’d mow the lawn and do yard work. What do I end up with? A smart-ass kraut that hates to get his hands dirty, literally does not know how to use a hammer and doesn’t have the patience to learn. He does, however, take out the garbage.

Here’s the problem:

The weather strip thingy on our front door broke. A tiny metal part holding it in place broke in half. I ordered the part and when it arrived, I realized I needed a smallish (about 10mm) hex bit to remove the two screws holding in the broken part. I knew the size by sight not by numerical measurement. Know what I mean? I figure it’s because I’m a mover’s daughter and grew up measuring the size of things with my eyes. Helpful talent, let me tell you.

I did not feel like going to Bauhaus (HomeDepot) to get this bit. There was no way I could send Sparky into a hardware store and expect him to come out with anything remotely helpful for this project. It finally hit me what living with Sparky means. It means I will never, ever have someone else to fix this stuff.

Now, some guys might have a hard time understanding this from my perspective. Long ago, when I had other boyfriends and something would break, they would fix it. Like the VCR, cable box, TV wiring or a doorknob that was loose. I could fix it, but why bother when Boy X, Y or Z would do it. I didn’t HAVE to depend on anyone to fix it, but it was nice when they did.

Well, I just realized that I’m Boy X.

We needed the paint in the kitchen touched up. He wanted to call in the painters who don’t lift a brush for less than 250€. I bought a brush and a paint mixing stick for 5€ and set to work. I could almost see paying people to do this stuff, but not really.

Sparky is useful, don’t get me wrong. He’s so bright I can barely stand him. He’s almost as good as I am in an argument. This gives me a challenge while still allowing me to win – very important. And he’s super at digging holes. He’s strong and muscular. He can carry all the heavy stuff and help lift stuff. And he’s taller than I am so he can reach all the stuff I can’t. His mother taught him to polish shiny surfaces. He’s superb at polishing knobs.

Now, this door thing really nailed it home for me (pun intended). Sparky figured we were going to have to buy a new door or at least hire our carpenters to fix it. It took me five minutes to fix.

I will never again know the pleasure of letting someone else fix this stuff.

Instead, I get the pleasure in the satisfaction that I can do this stuff. And it’s totally overrated.


3 thoughts on “Tool Time

  1. I love your sweet article.

    The detail that really turns this blog entry into quality literature, though, is your emphasis on your superior argumentation skills. By the reader’s inference, you achieve to be seen as the superior intelligence in our realtionship – a clever ruse!

    😉 – sparky

  2. yes, I’m clever that way, aren’t I? Do they teach debating skills here in europe? hmm. You must have missed that class.

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