Why I will never need Hire a Husband

As much as I love Michael’s romantic side, I must say that it’s the exception and not the rule around here.   He does paint our little one’s nails fairly often, but generally speaking, he is more comfortable when wielding a paint brush.  We are more likely to see him doing something like this…..
I dread those lazy afternoons when he says he’s going to head downstairs to “have a look at something”. I know that inevitably this will end up with me having to take pictures, and make a dozen or so trips to Home Depot.  I am the woman that every Home Depot employee hates, with my use of highly technical terms such as “thingy” and “doohickey”, and my sophisticated ability to imitate “weird” mechanical noises.

When I’m not picking up supplies or documenting Michael’s work in agonizing detail, I am usually called on to “give him a hand”.  Oh, how I hate that phrase.  It usually ends with me lifting something twice my body weight or getting paint in my hair.  There are times when I refuse to help (see below).  I draw the line at extension ladders.  Also, I may have been deterred by Michael’s statement that he “might die”, and if he was electrocuted I should “kick him away from the ladder”.  (So as not to continue to conduct the electrical current.)  I clearly know too much.

Lest anyone be carried away with jealousy over my previous post, I thought it best to set the record straight.  The road to marital bliss is the one that leads straight to Home Depot.