Mrs. Handyman

In the past, I have disdained the dirty business of home repair. I have also passed on filling cars with gas, and everything else that goes with that, including but not limited to the changing of tires, checking the oil, adding antifreeze, and even washing the car.  When my dad showed me how to check oil and pump gas, I showed my brother and gave him $10 to do it and not tell Dad. I gave him a dollar everytime he filled the tank for me. One time, I had to call Blair to ask how to get the gas door open, because I had to go somewhere in his car and had zero idea of how to get the darn thing open. Until about 2002, that is.

That was the year I made a neighborhood friend who did all that and more. She was stunned at my lack of tool knowledge. She had actually purchased a lawn mower BY HERSELF without a MAN there. This is like speaking to me in Chinese. I had no idea what she was saying. I have no idea where Blair bought our lawn mower, how old it is, and I fully expect that if something does happen to it, that a new one will magically appear in the garage.  A place, I might add, I spend as little time as possible.

This friend used a power drill. (I was using butter knives). She hung stuff up with like, anchors, and nails. ( I was using tape, until Blair made me stop. I guess he was probably using anchors too. He bought me little nails to hang up pictures, and I pounded them into the wall with the heel of one of my pumps) She changed her own lightbulbs (so I don’t change lightbulbs, so what?), edged her own lawn, tilled her own garden! She installed stuff, like ceiling fans, and light switches. She had laid tile, patched drywall and….*gasp* ….built stuff to actually use in the house! Like shelves! She could assemble furniture. (I’d never even seen the directions before. Blair throws them away, I leave, and when I come back, Voila! Furniture!)

Needless to say, when I realized that you could do some of this yourself, instead of waiting for DH to come home and have time, I was shocked. And surprised. And trepidatious. It was strange, and unsettling.

Since that time, I have done almost all of that. For quite a few years, this woman was there, drill or saw or trimmer in hand, helping.

One time we rented, by ourselves, a sod cutter. That is not a good idea, by the way. I think both of us sustained some brain damage, and if we hadn’t already been done having children, I think that machine alone could have finished us, reproductively speaking. I actually had blurry vision for about 24 hours after.

Before she moved, we replaced a breaker switch in her house.

This is on my mind, because of the washer. This morning it was flashing the E-13 sign at me, which means that this thingy under it probably has a bobby pin wedged in it. I have actually fixed this BY MYSELF in the past.  Blair went into the laundry room with me, and I gave him the directions, while I looked on decoratively. I was impressed that I could. He was impressed that I could.

Since those days of tool/fixit ignorance, I have hung curtains, replaced outlets, patched drywall, put a dresser back together and much more. I have my own tool box, filled with among other things, my own box of anchors, and my own hammer.

Blair is still MUCH better at it than me, and, to tell the truth, I don’t like it all that much. I decline to touch the tiller, and have made it a personal policy to NEVER touch an electric saw (but I have used a miter saw and box). I don’t touch the trimmer. I did learn to change tires, and have done it successfully. I will never change the oil. Never. I can put bikes together, and assemble furniture, but I’d rather Blair did it.

I guess my point is, I’m glad I can do this stuff, when it comes down to it. And some women do not have the luxury of a handy guy married to them. I for one, think that as females, we should probably be able to do these unsavory jobs ourselves. But as a woman who would rather keep her hands clean and off the drill, I say, if you can hire it out, go right ahead.