Handy Man

Over the years, I have learned to adapt in many different ways. I’m not even talking about relationship dynamics here that is a whole other blog series. This all has to do with mechanical operations around the house. You all know that my husband is a very resourceful handy man when it comes to fixing things. If he can’t fix it, he usually knows a guy.

One prime example that I love to give in order to fully understand how my husband operates is when my oldest was six months old (oh the glory days of only having one child). The water softener broke. If you live in a city that has heavy iron in the water, you completely understand my issue. To illustrate, without a water softener all your white clothes develop a nice rusty orange glow (same thing happens to blond hair). On top of this, my oldest was a chronic spit upper after eating (which was hell to get out before the water softener broke). As a wife, I rarely nag my husband, let me repeat “I AM NOT A NAG.” Letting this go on for another nine months, you can see that my previous statement holds true.

In my younger days, I probably would have said something after about three months. I have mellowed out since I have had kids and I have become much more passive aggressive (most likely because I’m a responsible adult now and kids are present and fighting like a bunch of 2 year olds is not a good example for children to watch).

Any way I feel I am not being heard when I have asked a few times is there a way we can fix the water softener over the specified nine month period (I really want my white clothes back). I take it upon myself to call a few companies to come in and give me estimates on fixing it or replacing the system. A guy comes in to take a look, he writes up an estimate to replace the unit. He won’t be able to fix it. I smile, say thank you and say I will give him a call when I discuss this with my husband.

My loving husband comes home from work. I hand him the estimate. He looks at it, crumples it up and heads down stairs mumbling some kind of impolite profanity. He comes back up after about an hour and says that the softener is fixed. I keep my mouth shut, but can’t hide my huge grin. I am adaptable, but there are limits.

I have been operating with a stove that only has two small working burners for the last three years (not the big burners). To turn on the washing machine, I have to use a utensil to turn the dial. The dryer needs to run twice to dry one load of clothes. The main bathroom still doesn’t have a center light installed. Casper the friendly ghost visits once in awhile because the lights tend to flicker occasionally (something to do with the breakers on the panel, oh did I mention my husband is an electrician). There is more, but I think you get the idea.

I’m not writing this because I want to complain about all things that are broken or half working in my house, I’m writing this because I’m frustrated with the way he gets mad at me when I tell him about another issue. Well maybe I am writing this to complain.

What tripped my trigger was our new-used car we bought. Something was wrong with the front end because every time I would go over a bump (Wisconsin winters aren’t friendly to the roads) the car would vibrate. I let him know about the issue, but he gets mad at me because he is sick of fixing cars (considering we just bought this vehicle, I understand how he feels). He left for a trip over the weekend and said he would look at it when he got back. I think great, it will be fixed then. Over the weekend, I was with my brother and sister-in-law and my brother-in-law says your right tire on the passenger side seems to be really low. I ask him if he can fill the tire up for me. Sure. He comes back and says the valve stem on the tire is leaking. After about a minute, he comes back in and says the tire is fixed. Obviously, I thanked him profusely.

Thank God, I have family to help me.