Nope. Here's how things work around my house. Something breaks. I get out the tools and start dismantling it because after all, in my mind I can fix things. Once I have the item broken down into as many parts as it was before it became that item, I start looking to see what the problem is.
Let's see..........yep, there are lots of screws. Oh, and some wiring. And maybe a gear or 2000. Ah HAH! I think I have it figured out. There was a bug in the housing and I'm sure that that one teeny little bug is what caused the whole entire contraption to malfunction. Once the offending bug is removed, I prepare myself to reassemble things. It all seems to go well, and the part looks just fine. But wait...there are 3 wires and 10 screws still on the table. I figure that since things went back together so smoothly, and it all looks ok, those leftovers were probably just rolling around inside the housing and weren't really necessary. I usually spend at least an hour reinstalling the broken repaired item then thoroughly test it out. And then I tend to the wounds that were incurred during the repair process.
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So, now that it's ready to go, let's test it:
Is the item plugged in/rewired to the power source? Check
Is the item plugged in/rewired to the power source? Check
Am I ready to turn it on? Check
Ok, power it up! (crickets chirping)
I'll spare you the details of some of the things that happen next. You probably don't want to hear my entire sailor vocabulary of horrible words. And I don't look very cute when I'm stomping my feet and banging on stuff and rolling around on the floor crying. And the cats don't look too cute hovering over me licking my tears. They sort of look like cannibals eating my face. But that's another tale for another day.
It usually takes a month or so before I'll admit to Mr. Wonderful that I've "fixed" something that's obviously, hopelessly broken. Most of the time, he's already aware that it's broken. I think he likes to watch and wait to see how long I'll hold out before I admit that I can't fix whatever it is. I haven't mentioned this before, but Mr. Wonderful has a very, very deep voice. (After spending many years with a very quiet, soft spoken man, I'm not used to the whole deep voice kinda guy). When he talks it sounds like he's really mad and is yelling. But he isn't. So when he says 'So, you fixed it' I feel like I'm about 4 and I'm in really bad trouble. Then I get all indignant and tell him that he doesn't have to yell at me and make fun because I tried to fix something. He usually just chuckles and tells me to bring him the tools he needs and he proceeds to re-fix it. The correct way. Which usually takes about 2 1/2 minutes.
I'm going to stick to my story that since I have power tools, I'm a great Ms. Fix It. I'll keep fixing things around the house so that Mr. Wonderful will have something to keep him occupied when he's bored. You know, men need to feel needed. Otherwise, they'll become girly-men and start wearing their wives' dresses around the house.
Amen and the end!
I'll spare you the details of some of the things that happen next. You probably don't want to hear my entire sailor vocabulary of horrible words. And I don't look very cute when I'm stomping my feet and banging on stuff and rolling around on the floor crying. And the cats don't look too cute hovering over me licking my tears. They sort of look like cannibals eating my face. But that's another tale for another day.
It usually takes a month or so before I'll admit to Mr. Wonderful that I've "fixed" something that's obviously, hopelessly broken. Most of the time, he's already aware that it's broken. I think he likes to watch and wait to see how long I'll hold out before I admit that I can't fix whatever it is. I haven't mentioned this before, but Mr. Wonderful has a very, very deep voice. (After spending many years with a very quiet, soft spoken man, I'm not used to the whole deep voice kinda guy). When he talks it sounds like he's really mad and is yelling. But he isn't. So when he says 'So, you fixed it' I feel like I'm about 4 and I'm in really bad trouble. Then I get all indignant and tell him that he doesn't have to yell at me and make fun because I tried to fix something. He usually just chuckles and tells me to bring him the tools he needs and he proceeds to re-fix it. The correct way. Which usually takes about 2 1/2 minutes.
I'm going to stick to my story that since I have power tools, I'm a great Ms. Fix It. I'll keep fixing things around the house so that Mr. Wonderful will have something to keep him occupied when he's bored. You know, men need to feel needed. Otherwise, they'll become girly-men and start wearing their wives' dresses around the house.
Amen and the end!
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