Manliness

I often think that I am THE MAN. I consider myself quite capable of most things farm, ranch, horse and home related. The other day I was driven by desperation, desperate to do the dishes no less, to great new heights. I tackled plumbing.

I hate plumbing, most any job that requires touching gross things and getting dirty for that matter. Let me make it clear that horse and cow poop are not gross, oil, grease and anything under my sink are.

The sink was not draining and the dishes were piling up so I pulled up my big girl pants and looked under the sink. My dad is a carpenter and all around handy man, I know what a P trap is. Putting on my rubber gloves I quickly had it dismantled cleaned out, it was rather full, and with some trial and error put back together. I was awesome.

The next day it wasn’t draining anymore. I was not the man.

After working a full and very busy day and coming home to greet his child with love attention and play, my much beloved husband got the battery charger on the car whose battery I had been solely responsible for killing. Did I mention that I hate batteries, chargers and most things electric? He then ate a quick supper and got down to some real plumbing.

I though I had braved the disgusting depths of our sinks bowels the day before but he dove deeper. And dirtier. And worked much longer and harder at it. As The Goblin Child and I played and watched T.V. he sweated in the filth and stench of the drain cleaner. As time passed and things worked slowly or not at all bedtime came, the child slept and I looked over his shoulder wishing that I could somehow ease his load.

Finally for no apparent reason, other than working the snake through to its full twenty five foot length, the water started to drain. He then scrubbed the sink clean. Now that is THE MAN.

My delusions of independence and self sufficiency are time and again proven to be just that as The Goblin Child and I wait breathlessly for him to get home. By the ease with which I allow him to take over chores that are too hard or too gross and I don’t want to do them. We depend on him completely for everything. Poor guy.

Same to my brother who works hard full time and comes home to remodel their house in his “spare” time. His latest project, I understand, involves crawling into a dark cramped hole under the porch to rebuild the footings. In our most recent conversation he was unable/unwilling to identify the things that crawl on him while he is under there. What a man.