There’s a reason I hate being a homeowner – stuff breaks.  And I’m married to a man with very few man skills.  We even have to hire an electrician to change the florescent bulbs – my dh can’t set the tubes into place.  Personally, I think he suffers from homeowner performance anxiety.  This week it’s the pool pump motor.  It went something like this:

 

Friday:

“Honey, do you hear the pump?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t usually sound like that.”

“Why don’t you go turn it off?”

“I don’t know how.”

(In a seriously pissy tone)  “Fine, I’ll do it.”  – BTW, it requires opening a small box mounted on the outside wall above said rattling pump and flipping the switch to ‘off.’  I return with my clothing damp from having brushed up against the hedging hiding the pool heater and parts (and occasionally a VERY big black snake).  “Honey, go call the pool guy and tell him about the noise.”

DH, “Naw, I’m sure it will be fine if we just let it rest for a day.”

Rest?  It’s a flipping pool motor, not a rump roast, though by this time I was mentally thinking my husband was a rump hole.

 

Saturday:

Pool motor comes on, sound is worse.

Me:  “Go turn it off.”

DH: “I don’t know how.”  (See above for the rest of the conversation).

 

Sunday:

Pool motor grinds to life.

DH:  “Maybe we should call the pool guy.”

Me: “It’s Sunday, I’m not haunting him on a Sunday.  I’ll turn it off, want to come with me so you can learn how to do this in case I die or something?”

“Naw, you’re really good at it.”

 

Monday:

Pool motor sounds really, really bad.  I bypass the pointless conversation with my dh and go to turn it off.  It’s stuck, so I improvise and change the automatic timer to trick the ailing motor into thinking it’s done for the day.  I call the pool guy.  He’ll come out at the end of the day.  Yeah – the cavalry is coming!

But the pool motor cops an attitude and turns itself back on.  I curse, go back out and turn it off manually, then tell my husband to go into the garage and cut the circuit breaker for the pool equipment.

DH: “How do I do that?”

“Um, open the panel and find the pool equipment label and flip it to the off position.  Surely a man with an MBA can do that, right?”

A few hours later, on come the rumbling, grumbling pool motor.  Me:  “Didn’t you flip the breaker?”

“Yes.”

So I go check and turns out girlie man shut off the pool lights.

 

In my next life, I’m marrying a handy guy.

 

Wow. You have a pool. I'm envious. I have a hot tub that needs repair. I need to get the landscaping done first. Your husband's reactions remind me of the old philosophy of car problems. When the engine makes a funny noise, turn up the radio. :)

Hahahahahohohoheheheheheee!

Have you read THE SWEET POTATO QUEENS BOOK OF LOVE? There's a chapter about the five men every woman needs in her life. #1 is "A man who can fix things."

Sure, now you tell me - 26 years too late :)

No! Rhonda! No!
Never marry a handy man. You will never own a new appliance again. I have a Matag washing machine that is probably a first edition. So what if it's rusty or missing knobs. Screwdrivers, especially the little red ones, can turn on anything.