My Husband the Fixer

I was in the middle of cleaning the kitchen a couple of days ago when I discovered the sink wasn't draining. I hollered something to Larry, who murmured something unintelligible from the other room. I finished cleaning up and went on to other, more pleasant activities. About an hour later, my husband gets up from his Xbox game and comes into the kitchen to get a drink.

"Why didn't you tell me the garbage disposal was broken?" he yells from the kitchen.

"I did tell you!" I yell right back. We are all about the communicating, my sweetheart and I.

Larry decided to sleep on the matter, and to be honest, I was glad. My husband is not known for his maintainence skills. Most of the little odd jobs that need to get done around the house are done by...my dad or someone we can ply with alcohol. Larry means well, but he's a computer geek. Geeks just don't tend to pay attention to how to fix stuff around the house unless it's some sort of electronic device. Understandably, I was worried that we would end up having to pay extra because Larry 'fixed' things.(and to be fair, I am no better at "fixing" things. There is a really good reason that I am not allowed to have power tools.)

The next morning as we were getting ready to leave to go to lunch, Larry poured Drano into the disposal. When we came back, everything looked...exactly the same. Larry made a bold decision to put on gloves and reach into the disposal and see if he could pull some of what was blocking the drain out of there. I say it was a bold decision because we've both seen way too many horror movies where bad things happen to people who stick their fingers down the garbage disposals; let's just say that it never ends well and that it creeps me out.

Larry stuck his hand down in there. He looked perplexed. I watched, ready to jump into action at a moment's notice. I had no idea what the heck I was going to do, but I was going to do it quickly.

This time, thankfully, my services were not required. One of Zane's cups had fallen into the disposal and become wedged in there, blocking the drain. Larry was able to get a knife and pry it out of there. After that, of course, the disposal worked perfectly, as did the drain. Larry began dancing in the kitchen, his hands in the air.

"I fixed it! I fixed it!" he chortled. "You were going to pay a plumber to fix that, and I did it!!!" I just smiled and let him dance. Sometimes the key to a good marriage is knowing when to keep your mouth shut.