How to Get Stuff Done When Your Partner is Tool-Challenged.

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Abstract

tips perilously forward every time I pull out the loaded bottom drawer.</p><p id="3719">A downlight hangs forlornly from our cathedral ceiling in the lounge room. It fell out one night a year ago, when there was an almighty storm, and Mr. M. was too ‘cautious’ to climb up the big ladder and push it back in.</p><p id="2f09">Nothing that requires a trip up the aforementioned big ladder will ever get done. I fully understand that concept, after many years of holding his legs on the lowest steps. Not window cleaning, not cobweb removal, nothing. To be fair, nothing beyond the third rung.</p><p id="b535"><i>So call a handyperson,</i> you say.<i> A tradie.</i></p><p id="f629">But that is a no-no for Mr. M. Unless they work for free. Unless it requires potentially fatal power tools. Unless it needs the even bigger ladder. And <i>Hire-a-Hubby</i>? Well, that’s just never going to fly.</p><p id="4896">My husband is Jewish. Seeing his expression in aisles 27, 33 and 56 of the big hardware store is like watching a child’s face in Santa’s Workshop. Bewildered and awe struck.</p><p id="4d19">He jokes that there should be a special aisle and concierge for ‘his people’ in hardware stores.

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A kind of kiddie tool area where only harmless, bladeless, motorless, non-flammable things are sold. And there is always someone there to explain. Everything.</p><p id="031f">I missed the opportunity to have myself a real live handy husband, who can actually accomplish even the smallest job. Without whining, or applause and hours of gratuitous praise. But I have a dream. And if there is any fairness in this universe, I will nab a butt-crack showing, tool belt wearing tradie in the next life. And he’ll be f***ing AMAZING.</p><div id="3151" class="link-block"> <a href="https://medium.com/@janet.meisel/membership"> <div> <div> <h2>Join Medium with my referral link - Janet Meisel</h2> <div><h3>As a Medium member, a portion of your membership fee goes to writers you read, and you get full access to every story…</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*cSr5dO7FilaswzZW)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

Sorry, but it’s almost impossible.

Mr. M. is so tool-challenged that successfully fixing a washer on a tap requires a fanfare and much praise. He has a few well-stocked toolboxes, and some power tools but he is terrified by them all. Whether pruning branches, changing the battery in the fire alarms, or hanging a punching bag, he needs me to watch. In case he cuts off a limb. Falls from a ladder or gets blindsided by a tree.

Recently we made the stupid commitment to install a new dishwasher ourselves. If it hadn’t been for my brother-in-law, the all-round capable builder guy, and face-time, it would still be in the box. Mr. M. hasn’t yet figured out how to anchor it to the adjacent kitchen cupboards, so that it tips perilously forward every time I pull out the loaded bottom drawer.

A downlight hangs forlornly from our cathedral ceiling in the lounge room. It fell out one night a year ago, when there was an almighty storm, and Mr. M. was too ‘cautious’ to climb up the big ladder and push it back in.

Nothing that requires a trip up the aforementioned big ladder will ever get done. I fully understand that concept, after many years of holding his legs on the lowest steps. Not window cleaning, not cobweb removal, nothing. To be fair, nothing beyond the third rung.

So call a handyperson, you say. A tradie.

But that is a no-no for Mr. M. Unless they work for free. Unless it requires potentially fatal power tools. Unless it needs the even bigger ladder. And Hire-a-Hubby? Well, that’s just never going to fly.

My husband is Jewish. Seeing his expression in aisles 27, 33 and 56 of the big hardware store is like watching a child’s face in Santa’s Workshop. Bewildered and awe struck.

He jokes that there should be a special aisle and concierge for ‘his people’ in hardware stores. A kind of kiddie tool area where only harmless, bladeless, motorless, non-flammable things are sold. And there is always someone there to explain. Everything.

I missed the opportunity to have myself a real live handy husband, who can actually accomplish even the smallest job. Without whining, or applause and hours of gratuitous praise. But I have a dream. And if there is any fairness in this universe, I will nab a butt-crack showing, tool belt wearing tradie in the next life. And he’ll be f***ing AMAZING.