Handyman…hello…? Doesnt smell like it.
All those years ago, when I picked Mr.Blab out of the piles of men throwing themselves at me, there were a lot of reasons for my decision. Being handy was not one of them. Although I think I could have legal standing for a return, as he did show off himself to be somewhat self directed at fixing things without being asked, by showing up one day at my place with a WD40 in hand and without saying a word, fixing my screeching computer chair. No word, as I said. Whipped it out, made my life better and then put it back (dont read too much into this sentence, you dirty minded people). That was it though, since then I havent seen any proof that he has any skills at all at fixing, let alone making something out of nothing.
He puts stuff together from flatpacks though. Yep. He likes tools too, just like any other man, handy or not. Whats with that? Hey, I cant really use this, nor do I know how to, nor do I think I will ever have to..but what the, I want it, its cool. Yeah, dude. Pass the two left hander a beer….oups! I dropped it, pass another one, better yet, put it on the table and I will stick my head in and sip it, its safer, for everyone.
Mr. Blab needed to put some order to his store room. The room we dont speak of, the room that needs to be kept close as to not polute the air of the rest of the house. Its a working room, so you think it will have some kind of order, but that will be a completely wrong assumption. Its a mess that only he and he alone can wade through, with a risk to his life, may I add.
Finally, it might have dawned on him that the situation needs fixing. So we planned the room out and he got some shelving to organizee some of the stuff. Put some order to it. Some, because the place needs NASA to visit and solve completely.
So he got his brand spanking new tools and got to work to put the new shelving together.
Puts the first set up and we discuss the space between the shelves and decide he needs to move one of them up.
He starts to laugh, embarrassing silly laugh.
“I am an idiot” and starts to unscrew the offending bolts.
He made little slopes out of the shelves, perfect to put something on and them sliding down to the floor. I giggle and make fun of him, of course.
The whole shelving unit is down in a heap smashing the flour pot. I burst out laughing.
“I need to take a picture of that” and look for my camera.
He is rushing around putting the pot back up and the offending unit up as well
“Nothing is going on, see!” – he boasts after his quick clean up.
We are busting laughing and I find the evidence and snap it:
See the dirt! Its evidence! Right?
I start to tease him and how I should keep my camera on hand for the inevitable next handyman hidden camera moment.
His best response?
How unimaginative, I even had to decorate it to make it fun.
Poor effort, Mr.Blab Two Left Hands Forever With A Hairy Middle Finger.
Then he needed the help of the 10 month old dude in the house.
The shelves are up and his room is a tiny bit better, but still under strict quarantine rules.
Must be nice to have a man that can make things, or at least fix stuff, even a little bit. Our fridge has been blowing ice from the freezer through the gap in the seal for yonks. I need to sort it out, because his solution is to just “jiggle the door and close it better”. Hmmm…not.
Me? I am multitalanted. My nose, for example, is a work of art. Not in its appearance, thats one completely shallow trait. I am well known and feared in this house for what I can find out with my nose.
Its after dinner and I walk past Mr.Blab to the office room. I catch a non fitting smell, one that doesnt correspond to the food stuff we have just consumed.
“What have you eaten?” I ask.
“What?” – he asks back to deflect my initial question.
“What have you eaten, I smell something”.
He gets the silly grin on his face and rolls his eyes in disbelief “Noooothing”
We both know he is being goofy and that he has stuffed his face with something and will be revealed to the whole world of Me in a few seconds.
I go and sniff him. He laughs and opens his mouth, knowing there is nothing he can do to fight the inevitable.Â I sniff. Its not clear cut. Smells like Dimes, but not just that.
“Dimes!” I declare.
His eyes roll again in disbelief “Yeah! I cant believe it. I cant get away with anything in this house”
“It took me awhile, because I smelled some fruity something in there…strange” I say as I walk away.
He is throwing a fit now, holding his forehead “I cannot believe this! You have got to be kidding me!” he is half laughing, half looking at me like I am the goddess of stink or something “I had a fruit lolly too!”
Muahahaha. Who is your Sniff Goddess now?!
Handyman – 0
Sniff Goddess – 1,254 and counting