Home Alone—Together

Tis the season… for many of the wives of construction fellas, this is the time of year when we have to start sharing our inside space.

That’s right—the sections of the home that are solely, exclusively ours the rest of the year now become fair game for the man, and no, it’s not always pretty.

We have our schedules, our routines, our SYSTEMS, and when they are tampered with things can get a little, well, sticky.

Take for instance the other day, when I was diligently saving our home from potential fire hazard.

We gals all know that the clothes dryer hosts a huge partay and invites all forms of dust to live behind and underneath it—danger danger danger.

This is why said dryer needs, no begs, to be moved so that removal of crud and such can take place. Because the dryer lives inside the home this is a girl job—always has been.

Women have this hidden incredible brute strength, not always visible to the naked eye.

I know this to be true because when I’m home alone I can move mountains unassisted—rolling out the fridge, rearranging furniture, and in this case, the amazingly light clothes dryer.

So here’s my question:

Was it really my fault that the stupid hose which vents the stupid dust wasn’t long enough to sustain my superior strength, and completely disconnected itself?

I’m going with ‘no’, not my fault at all.

And, in the event that I was the sole occupant of the house at the time of crime, chances are I may have been able to hide—I mean fix—this tiny infraction on my own.

But NOOOOOOO…

Along comes Timmy Tinkerton, who happened to hear the commotion from his Man Space directly below the traitor of a dryer.

As luck would have it the other section of flimsy vent hose was located directly over his tinkering head, and I was busted in a matter of minutes.

Was he thankful that I was saving our home and lives?

Did he commend me for a spotless hands and knees cleaning, where the wood floor was all shiny and gleaming now?

Did he even admit that this may in fact have been all his fault, due to poor planning and too short of a hose?

Nope. No-sir-ee. Not even close. In fact, and somewhat shockingly, quite the opposite scenario played out.

Timmy stomped back down to his Man Space Down Under, returning with an armful of tools and gadgets.

Keep in mind, this guy spends the rest of the year digging holes and filling them in—Inside Work is just not his forte.

By now I’m detecting a fair share of angst—he starts speaking in “tone,” immediately followed by some quite colorful job site language.

I am being unfairly judged and criticized and promising myself that his clothes will never see the inside of that dryer again.

Have a swell time with the clothesline all winter pal—good luck trying to bend your knees in your stiff and frozen pants, and we’re not even going to mention how your tighty whities will fare…

Needless to say temporary repairs were made—Timmy T. will be forced to make yet another trip to the hardware store because, with each and every project a minimum of four trips is required.

Maybe when I prepare dinner tonight I’ll zip off to the market first for the meat, followed by another trip for the spuds, and oops… lookie here, I forgot the veggies!!!!

All I can say here is bring on spring—we’ll both be back to work after an entire season of bonding, and maybe my box of wine will last a wee bit longer.

In the interim my projects will not be deterred—today the fridge gets my undivided attention and I’m eagerly anticipating tackling the movable parts… get your tools ready T.T. Gonna be a looooong day in Woodgate.