I don’t mean to focus exclusively on the guys with this question…but it’s still a question. My sample size is very small. Just the hubster Paul, to be exact.
I’m lucky enough to be hitched to a human who can fix just about anything. I think it’s his engineering and innovating heart. No cape required. Paul can assess and mull and investigate any household challenge and although he’s not entirely delusional, he IS game to fix most things and has – successfully – for years. Electrical, plumbing, carpentry and household fix-its? Paul’s on the case. The only challenge? His ever-lengthening timelines to completion. He’s great at the starting line but you’d better have oodles of patience if you think the job – any job – will be done in short order. In fact, I recommend packing a snack if you’re a spectator.
So there’s that. He would say he’s meticulous and thoughtful. I would say he ponders to the point of paralysis. A full stop on the road to remedies.
I’ll spare you the gory details about the carousel of projects in motion at the moment chez Atkinson. And there’s no need to be alarmed. We have heat, power – all the basics – but the languishing list of small stuff, like painting and some drywall repair? Even though I’ve threatened to do the work myself (which scares the life out of him) he smiles and just taps his temple and says, “I’m thinking…” as he dons his safety glasses while sitting at one of his two overflowing workbenches. Surveying his domain and dominion.
I’ve learned. Move on. Pick and choose and engage in trade talks to motivate him. What worked today? The prospect of me whipping up a batch of cream cheese frosting for him to smush between his beloved gingersnaps, making the most decadent of sandwich cookies.
We’ll see how that plays out…but while we were giggling about our mediation moment cookie-style, Paul stood and I noticed a great big glob of grease on his sweatshirt. He shrugged it off as he prepared to head out to Home Depot for “supplies”. (Whatever it is he needed, I would bet the house on the fact that it’s already IN the house…but I digress.) I nodded in response to his shrug and oh-so casually mentioned that he might want to change out of his crappy looking sweatshirt before he left. And that’s when time stopped.
Paul stared at me, mouth open and then shook his head. “Um…no. No need to change.”
I was confused. “It’s dirty – give it to me and I’ll spot clean it before it goes in the wash.”
“Nope,” he said. “It’s not like it’s a food stain. It’s a work spot. Who cares?”
That’s when I figured it out. There’s a pecking order. Food dribbles = change your duds, you messy eater you. Handy man stains? Badge of honor, baby. Grime = I’m in the game.
I guess I should count my blessings that he doesn’t swipe eye black under his eyes before he heading out – on account of the fluorescent glare of the Home Depot lights.
I’m at a loss. So I’ll leave it to you, dear readers. Is there such a thing as a hierarchy of acceptable stains on one’s attire?
I’m asking for a friend…
Vicki 😉
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Hi – I’m Victoria, Vicki, Dr. Vicki. I hold a doctorate in Adult Education and I’m a Licensed Professional Counselor (LPC), and author of Surviving Sue | Eckhartz Press.
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Victoria Ponders 
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