My husband is a fixer. Little (and large) unfixed things around the house which I ignore, he somehow notices, and then fixes them. I wonder if all men are like that or if it’s just him, because he’s an engineer, and I suspect he has ADHD, so yeah. Maybe it is just him.
One time our living room bulb died on us. For weeks we didn’t do anything about it (I certainly had no power over things involving electricity so I never dared. And yes, I didn’t care that much.) If it was just me I could have lived without it. But he managed to fix it one day. And then I realized we needed it more than I thought we did.
Yesterday I complained that the house smelled awful. But that’s all I did (and then I went to eat something I guess). He, on the other hand, went sniffing around for minutes trying to search for t he culprit. Later on he learned that it’s the pan that we left unwashed (actually I left it unwashed after cooking tuna. Ooops!) so he washed it. Smelly house got back to normal.
Tonight, I saw him carrying a screw driver (that’s what you call that thing, right?) and I was wondering what on earth he needed it for. When I asked I’ve realized he’s doing it again – fixing. He got rid of the hair strands (Yes, mostly mine. Alright I’m sorry.) that clogged our bathroom drain. Right now it has no direct impact on me but tomorrow I’m pretty sure I’d be grateful the water isn’t ankle deep after I shower.
I always thought I would be the one keeping our humble house in order. But I guess all I really do – or have done – is to start setting things up and complain or ignore them when they don’t function the way they’re supposed to. So I need that. I need a fixer. I need my husband, and I’m sure there’s gonna be a lot more things to fix, both in the house and in our lives. So I guess I’m gonna have to keep him for a long time, say forever. ^___^
-written last October 16, 2012 at around 10pm (?)