House Husbands

Last week, Nick, my contractor, went on vacation, which was a bit of a shock.  After six weeks or so of his being here every day, we're kind of like an old married couple, the happy version -- he helps me with the groceries when I come home, I pick up the dog poop in the yard for both my and his dog, I ignore the dirt he tramps around the house, he ignores the junk I stack on the edge of the stairs that gets in his way as he carries lumber up the stairs.  I suppose we might move into the OMC, grumpy version, if this project goes into 2012 but for now I'm enjoying having a temporary "husband."

But every good couple needs time apart so once I had adjusted to Nick's upcoming absence, I was feeling pretty good about being a swinging single for a week.  But alas it was not to be -- Dave, the painter, showed up.  Short, smiling, and entirely paint speckled, Dave arrived with his adorable twenty-something son in tow.  My silence was broken but still I smiled widely in response:  if we're down to painting, I must be getting pretty close to move-in date!, I thought.  

Dave made a pretty good replacement husband from the start -- he was cheerful, communicative, puppy-friendly, and a hard worker.  I was happy to have him around for a week.  And the incredible thing about Dave was he took his responsibilities as a husband very seriously.  On Wednesday, while I was toweling off from a shower in front of the mirror in the second floor bathroom, which is accessible only through Kanha's room, I noticed the bathroom door -- which was at least three-quarters closed -- sliding slowly open.  I wheeled around and said something incredibly clear, concise, and comprehensible, like "yow!", only to see Dave standing in front of me.  His body faced the wall, but now his face faced me -- not that I saw it for long.  I was too busy winding my towel around me while he was racing out the door down the stairs.  We reconnoitered awhile later, after I was dressed and he was appropriately chagrined.  He said, "I'm really sorry," and seemed sincere -- so I decided not to quiz him on what he was doing in Kanha's bedroom staring at the wall.  Perhaps getting new painting technique ideas?  

We managed to remain adult about the situation for the rest of the week -- no more too-husbandly behavior on his part -- and he even came up with a new business idea for me before the week was out.  On Friday afternoon, before heading home for the weekend, he brought me outside to show me the pot plant I was inadvertently growing in my front yard.  He appeared to be quite the expert -- told me this plant probably wouldn't get me high because it's male, not female, gave me tips on drying the leaves if desired, suggested it started growing from a roach dropped along the edge of the garden.  At that point, I was happy for his expertise -- maybe I'll try baking it into brownies and taking over for Nancy on Weeds... -- but truly glad he was not my husband.  Hurray, it's next week and Nick is back.