Living with Mr. Fix It

My husband has, apparently, a new hobby of fixing things around the house. It has been a few years.

It probably started out of necessity or convenience (faster to do it than schedule an appointment), but it’s become a thing now. It’s funny how patterns develop slowly and before you know it, it’s a full-blown habit.

It’s come to a crescendo lately since we have not one but two broken washers in the garage. Our washer was quite old and it finally died. Now it’s taking up space behind my car until bulk pick up day.

We were about to buy a new one, when my nice neighbor, Justin, said he had an extra set and would give it to us. He said it still worked at last check, but when we got it to our garage, it didn’t work all that well.

There is another neighbor, Les, who likes to fix appliances, and specializes in washers and dryers. Les said he’d help Claus fix the replacement washer, so it’s their little slow project.

When I got fed up with waiting for a working washer, Claus pulled the Les card and said LES said it’s better to fix it because it’s older, it’s quality, and it’s made to last. We’ll fix this baby and she’ll serve us for many years, I was informed.

It’s like a middle class suburban husband club with Claus, Justin, and Les, and the Washer Project.

Meantime, there are tools and parts all over the place, so whenever I come home I do this intricate sideways dance to maneuver my way into the house.

I also am not allowed to use the washer until it’s fixed. Claus thinks he’s the Washer Whisperer and that only he can use Justin’s semi-functional washer because he knows its quirks.

I actually like to do laundry so it’s kind of making me crazy that I can’t wash at will. I have all these throw rugs and other things I wish to launder but have been told washer use is limited to essential items for now. What is he, the Board of Washer Supply?

This is totally a First World Problem, yes. And I could actually walk to my dad’s house down the street and use his, but I’m lazy.

I suppose I should just remind myself that it’s cute that my husband wants to be handy. And that one day when the washer fully works again I will be sad that I will be expected to use it instead of having Claus do all the work.