Sometimes I forget to share just how lucky I am.
I am married to a bona fide handy man.
Because of this, I cannot even begin to calculate how much money we have saved over the years on repair bills or replacement items. I am convinced that there is nothing he can't fix. He takes things apart that I would not touch with a ten foot pole. Things that have parts and pieces so small, I can barely see them. And he always finds a way to "fix" a problem.
We recently had an ant situation in our cottage bathroom. Our "bug guy" as I like to call him, came and sprayed, but did not successfully handle the situation. There were still big black ants randomly marching out from under the toilet base. Gross.
Let me just say it is an uncomfortable feeling, especially for a girl, when you have to sit on the toilet knowing ants might be crawling up the side.
So, Mike decided to tackle our ant situation.
First, he put on his very fashionable "under the cottage suit".
Then, armed with ant killer stuff and a flashlight, he prepared to crawl under the cottage to see what's what.
Just watching him slide the panel back to reach the opening caused my claustrophobia to kick in. No way could I crawl into that hole. No way could I rescue him, should something happen to him under there.
Just think about it.
He has no idea what is lurking in the dark. What if there's a snake, or a bed of snakes, a whole super colony of ants, or a skunk? I totally freaked myself out with this train of thought and made Mitch be on standby should Mike need assistance.
He didn't, of course.
He has to crawl on his belly and in some spots cannot even turn his head.
My lack of mad skills in the fixing department came from both my parents. It's genetic. Did I ever tell you about the time my dad blew up a toaster? And, he once exploded a bike tire while attempting to patch and repair it. My brother-in-laws are not terribly handy either, so Mike is the shining star.
Thanks honey, for all that you do.