Mr Fix It...Later

I grew up having a dad that liked to fix things. And even now, he's like the Tasmanian Devil of home improvements. Moving with a determination and speed that, although is probably not even safe with power tools, is much appreciated because he GETS. IT. DONE.

I'm used to that. And I am used to doing things in a timely manner. So this whole moving into a house and doing one improvement per day is not my ideal.

My husband built the great wall of China a closet for me, and although it really is a dream closet, the box that it came it said estimated assembly time is 59 minutes...It took him a week. And I think he's still pretty tuckered out from it.

Last night I tried to reason him into putting up a mirror for me, because I knew it would only take a minute or two. The mirror now works, but my reasoning did not. I tried to tell him that I think we are in pretty traditional marriage roles. I cook all of his meals and clean and do laundry and all of that stuff. He works a lot and hunts and, in a dream world, can fix everything the minute I ask him to!

Well I did not plan this argument well. A mere hour before I gave him this schpeel, I had insisted that we go to Hooters for beer and buffalo wings. And while it was delicious, it did absolutely nothing for my whole "we are traditional" argument.

He reminded me that traditional women don't beg their husbands to go to a place where the only thing bigger than the beers and wings is the bazongas on the women that serve them.

Point. Counterpoint.

I am slowly just getting used to not getting everything finished instantly. And I hate it. But I am realizing...GULP...my way is not always the best way and sometimes a man just needs to sit on his ass. And sometimes a woman just needs some damn buffalo sauce.