Monday, January 12, 2015

I'm not a princess anymore...

I miss my husband in many ways. I miss hearing him sing. I miss the way he placed his hand gently on my back as he ushered me through a doorway. I miss hearing him breathe in the middle of the night. Oh, the list goes on. I also miss the thousand things he did for me to save me the trouble and frustration, not to mention that I didn’t know how to do them anyway. For example, finding a stud in the wall, re-wiring a lamp, or changing a flat tire on LuLu, my pink bike.
Also, there were things he did that just made my life easier; that made me feel like a princess. Like, changing the light bulbs in all lamps, porch lights, and ceiling fans. Gary was also the battery-master around here. Changing batteries in all remotes, flashlights, and the scale in the bathroom among other battery-operated gizmos. If something broke, he fixed it. If I was in need of a picture being hung, or a hole being dug, or a bush being re-located, he hopped on it without complaint. He hung my porch swing, moved my iron gate all around the yard until I found the perfect spot for it, and built the rose arbor I wanted. My wish was his command, most of the time. I was the princess whose hands bore no calluses and he was the hard-working prince/handyman who was always digging a splinter out of his finger or the palm of his hand.
Well, those days are over. Just this week two boards fell from the basement ceiling for no apparent reason, my garage door fell off its hinges, and I got my snowblower in a bad fix. Oh, and there was this smell in the house that I couldn’t track down. These days, there’s not a good prince/handyman when I need one. He’s gone to live with Jesus so I’m on my own.
The ceiling boards weren’t too hard to deal with. I know my way around a hammer and a nail. Of course, hammering over my head was tricky. The snowblower problem was a bear. While blowing snow off of my sidewalk, I accidently ran over the corner of the tarp that was covering my woodpile. It was hidden under the snow and I just didn’t see it. It took thirty minutes of hacking and chopping to get the shredded tarp pieces untangled from the snowblower blade. Did I mention that it was 4 degrees outside?
As for the garage door, it’s true what they say. You can fix anything with Duct Tape. It ain’t pretty, but it got the job done. As for that strange smell? Turns out it was gases being back up from the mound system caused by the extreme cold air and wind chill, and the odor was being pushed up through the shower drain. Solution: Water in an ice cream bucket placed over the shower drain. Who knew?!
I’m not a princess anymore. I’ve traded my tiara in for a Carhartt ball cap with earflaps and a pair of Gary’s old work gloves. I shutter to think about what’s going to happen next. But, something will. I’m preparing for Armageddon by stockpiling Duct Tape.
When the snowblower got tangled up, the garage door had already run off its track and was hanging there half up and half down. I had boards lying on my basement floor, and my house smelled like one big toot. The snowblower incident was the last straw. Tears started boiling up behind my eyes, but then I just got mad. I refused to cry over stupid stuff. What I did was start praying the loudest prayer I’d ever prayed. My tone was a little harsh, but my heart was in the right place. “God, help me! It’s the least You can do!”
The Hubs always took good care of me. This former princess had it good for a long time. I will always be thankful for my tiara time, but it’s a new day. Gary made sure I was not left helpless. After all, it was his Duct tape. I miss him in more ways than I have words. But, he taught me well. I will get the hang of this.

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