"Honey, Please Don't" Part Two

As I mentioned in Tuesday’s blog, I am missing the “Handy gene,” that mythical gene many men have that give them the ability to assemble, fix, and repair stuff.  It is nowhere to be found in my body.  I am explaining this, because this inability to have any talent whatsoever in these areas transitioned from my childhood into my later life as well. No matter how many DIY or HGTV shows I watch showing how easy something is to do, I am clueless.  I can’t read directions as they don’t make sense; I use dyslexia as my excuse and I am sticking to it.  For me, the only way to put something together is by trial and error.  For me it ends up being mostly errors and takes me five times as long to do something as it describes in the directions.  While it looks easy to assemble to most every other competent person, to me, not so much.

To aid in this deficiency, I believe I own most every tool imaginable.  Why? Because each time I think “this time will be different.”  I will easily complete the task at hand.  I am a college graduate, there are people that didn’t graduate from high school that can do it, so for me it should be easy.  The difference between the guys that didn’t finish high school and myself is they have ability. It turns out an education has nothing to do with it.  It’s that gene I spoke about earlier in Part 1 on Tuesday.

Forgetting I am lacking the gene, I will go ahead and attempt this idiot proof task.  First, as Bob Vila always says, “You always have to have the right tool.” Off to the big box store so I can buy the required tool. Now I am sure I can do whatever is needed to be done, as I have the tool.   I excel in always proving myself wrong. At least now when I can get a friend or hire someone to fix what I can’t, they will have the required tool to complete the job.  Sound familiar?

Once while attempting to hang a shelf in our laundry room for my wife, I put 8 holes in the wall looking for a stud to hang the shelf.  After I filled all the holes with spackle, spackle has become  my best friend.  My wife then hung a chalk board to cover the mess and the shelf never made it to the wall. 

In another “Tool belt opportunity,” my wife asked me to fix the stopper on the drain plug in her sink in our bathroom.  After putting the broken piece in my car to remind me to get a replacement, I finally decided it was time to actually fix it.  Those of you that read my previous blogs know what I am about to say, it fell in the “Black Hole” twice so I forgot about it for awhile.  But she didn’t as was constantly reminding me it needed to be fixed for two months, obviously her sense of urgency was apparently much different than mine. Finally, because I couldn’t listen to it anymore, I went to the big box store and purchased the required $2.00 replacement.  

The small box consisted of 5 different pieces and an even smaller piece of paper that includes the directions that were obviously written by someone that their native language is not English.  Admittedly, I have a difficult time with directions which do not include a clearly labeled picture, with letters for each piece, picture of how it is to be assembled showing exactly what to do.  What is confusing is they don’t put those same letters on each little piece. I also love when they use the names of the pieces, like I know what each one is called in the first place. I had no idea how many different combinations of 5 different pieces could be assembled incorrectly. I soon found out.

My wife, trying not to laugh and challenge my masculinity, went into the kitchen and quietly called a handy neighbor to “come over unexpectedly” as I was destroying her sink.  Glad to see him, I told him what I was doing. It took him less than 3 minutes to assemble it and put it on correctly.  I thanked him profusely and as he left the house, I caught him winking to my wife.  It was then I realized I was set up, again.  I always wondered how he knew when to come over at the right time.  Now I know.

So to those of you that can identify with me and the lack of any ability to fix, assemble, repair anything that requires the use of a tool.  Stop. Don’t do it.  You may think you can, but then remember all the other attempts you failed.  It’s ok, we are better at other things in life.  I will bet those other guys with the gene are probably not very good with Microsoft’s Excel or PowerPoint.  And you know they aren’t writing a blog.  I am sure they aren’t better lovers. 

Big deal, if we don’t know how to fix our car, or assemble the new bookcase your wife brought home.  We’re better at watching the ball game and drinking a beer while someone else has the confusion of trying to figure out how to put Part D into Part G while holding Part C.  Who cares, right?  If we had the gene, none of this would be an issue. 

If you married a woman that has the gene, you are a lucky man.  For those of you single guys  without the gene, if you find a woman with the gene....marry her!   

Now you know why I get “Honey, Please don’t.”  I am OK with it, if you are honest with yourself and you know who you are too, just call someone with the gene.  Some of you won’t call.  You are delaying the inevitable.  Those who haven’t figured this out yet, deal with it,  join us who know it as a fact of life. 

Unless you want to continue to listen to her bitch and moan that you still haven’t fixed whatever she wants repaired or assembled.  Give in, it won't be the first time, and  have someone come over and repair it.  Yes, she will find something else to harp on, but at least it will be something different to procrastinate about. 

To those of you that will continue to embarrass yourself, stop trying to kid yourself as you can't change it, it's not your fault you were passed by when they passed out the "Handy Gene."  Save yourself some time and nagging, please give the task to a professional.  Crack open your cob-webbed wallet and pay for it to be done correctly. It will help the economy as you will give someone with the gene and talent a job.

Please return next Tuesday for Notes by Blue for another escapade of laughing at life for what it really is or isn’t.  Maybe by then the idiots we elected to the House and Senate will have finally agreed upon a budget so we can go on with our lives. 

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