Along the way on my path in being single I have learned many things. This was not by choice, but rather out of desperation that comes from having to do things for yourself. I hate it. I hate not being able to say to someone, “It is broken. Will you fix it, please?” No, there is none of that anymore. Some of you may like being this independent and enjoy being single and that is great. It is not for me though. You might love the fact that you can fix things; however, I really do not care about it one way or the other. Of the things that I have been able to fix most of it looks terrible. It is an amateur job and I will be the first one to admit it. Nonetheless, I did save some money by doing it myself. Proud of myself? Well, umm, hold two fingers together about an inch apart and that is the extent of my pride.
I do not care how a toilet works, I do not care how to operate a drill, and I do not care how to fix a leaky faucet. I also do not care how the engine of my vehicle works. I just want to drive the darn thing. I even hate pumping my own gas. I am pretty much a girly girl so being alone hit me right in the face. I have managed though at least relatively well. I will not go into detail the times that I have cried while trying to fix something or move something heavy while moaning, “I can’t do this. I was not meant to do this.”
Before I became single my husband said to me, “Come here so that you can learn how to do this.” I dragged my heels into the bathroom as he was showing me some thing or another about the plumbing. I pretended to be interested while my mind wandered. I should have been paying attention, but I did not, unfortunately. A plumber came to my house last year. He also said to me, “Come here and look, but do not tell anyone that I showed this to you.” Again, and by the way it was the same plumbing area, I was only half listening. Something in me shuts down with any type of “male-related” job duties. I cannot help it. That is just me.
I caught a glimpse of a woman talking about home improvements on the television at work the other day. She was changing a gasket in the toilet. She was looking all beautiful and demonstrating how easy it was to do. Of course, her model toilet was new with all new shiny metal parts and perfectly white plastic pieces holding it all together. What about the pieces of plumbing in a house that is over 40 years old? I would have liked to see her get those little buggers apart. Let’s see how easy it is with rusting metal pieces.
I found myself a good handyman a long time ago. When I can afford to, I give him a call. I am so glad that I am not a man.
Angel Lynn writes in weight loss, single parenting, and health.