Hollow Tree Ventures parenting humor
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My Hero

I love my husband - he amazes me.  (I can almost hear some of my friends pretending to gag already - you know who you are - so cut it out!)  I have lots of reasons, but the most recent tangible example I can give is that, thanks entirely to his efforts, our house didn't turn into a really expensive swimming pool this week.

It started when I was moving some wet laundry into the dryer, and I noticed it was really  wet.  Like 45-pounds-per-towel kind of wet.  That's when a distinct dripping sound registered, and (being the super-sleuth that I am) I thought maybe there was a connection between the sopping laundry and this new sound of water drizzling down where it didn't belong.

It didn't take long to discover that there was water cascading from the water filter, which was connected to the pipes above, down onto the washer below, then seeping under the washer's lid and onto the clean clothes that now needed to be rewashed, or at least put through another spin cycle.  Case solved!  Except I was pretty sure that the water was supposed to stay in the pipes.  But I'm no plumber.

Upstairs I trudged, and with a properly grave expression situated on my face, I reported the leak to Gerry.  What were we going to do?  I know of three plumbers; one is fairly competent but way overpriced, one is cheaper but knows approximately four more things about plumbing than I do (which is zero), and one requires an awkward hug at the end of each service call.  It was going to be a tough choice.  Which is exactly why, if I were a single gal left to my own devices, I would have handled it in the following way:
  1. Notice leak.  Go upstairs, close basement door, and decide not to do laundry for a while.
  2. Try not to think about it, but over the course of the next few days work myself into such a Stress Frenzy that I feel like I swallowed a bowling ball.  Venture downstairs and put a bowl under the leak.  Throw a towel on the growing lagoon on the floor and flee back to higher ground.
  3. The next day, determined to Handle the Situation Like an Adult, go back down and wrap duct tape around the pipe.  Or electrical tape, or Scotch tape - whatever I could find (let's not pretend I ever really had duct tape lying around when I was single).  Throw another towel into the lagoon.  Wade back upstairs.
  4. Decide to Think Outside the Box.  Maybe I could charge neighborhood kids to come for a swim in my indoor pool.  Maybe I could start collecting exotic fish.  Or offer a water aerobics class.
  5. Sell the house.

Gerry, on the other hand, who at that point also knew absolutely zip about plumbing, trotted right down to the basement, deducted what the problem was, turned off the water (You can DO that?!?!), drove over to Lowes, returned with a baffling assortment of tools and supplies, removed the water filter (which didn't work anyway), and replaced it with a new piece of copper pipe while working in a space with as much elbow room as a paper lunch sack - a very flammable paper lunch sack, jammed with flammable insulation, which doesn't mix well with the use of a butane torch.  See how easy that was?

This is one of the ways I really made out like a bandit in our marriage - he saves me from random household catastrophes.  He's the one who actually fixes the car when I'm perfectly content to stop using the heater in January to see if that helps the engine run better, and he builds shelves in the closet when he sees I've been piling things up until they get to eye level behind the door.  I'm not saying I don't do anything around here - hey, I holler football game updates to him from the living room while he makes dinner - but I do think I did pretty great in the husband department.

I hope you enjoyed yourself while you were here - and I hope you come back! Please share inappropriate giggles with me on Pinterest, Twitter, and Facebook, or subscribe via email so you don't miss a thing!


Mary said...

A hearty Amen to that.

John (dad) said...

Smart husbands take care of a woman who will let them sleep and face a rampaging spider alone.

Sperry said...

Amen, Mary! And I can totally relate, Robyn. A couple of weeks ago, I posted on Facebook "I love being married to a mechanical engineer". In 30 minutes he completed a complicated repair of a lamp that I otherwise would have thrown away, and then stubbed my toe in the dark. Welcome to the really great husband club! You said it so well, as usual... ;-)

Kristin said...

Who knew he was so handy, or you were so sleuthy? ;)

TNMom said...

This is awesome! This must have been before he was a comment whore on your blog...yall are so sweet! He's a good sport. :) <3D

RobynHTV said...

Ha - comment whore! *adds to husband's resume*

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