Danny Quick, painter, and Denver Miracle, electrician, and Red Jenkins, automotive genius, are the men I rely on these days. A single girl who lives far from kith and kin depends on boyfriends, affordable handy persons, and the kindness of neighbors to keep her household in tip top shape. Sweet Henry, my new wide eyed bachelor neighbor (too bad he’s got a cute girlfriend) helped reset my TV remote and figure out how to connect my VCR and DVD players to my cable box. He kindly labeled everything so that I could remember which doohicky to turn on when.
A friend recommended a plumber for my dripping faucet. I had already found one through Richmond Plumbing Specialties. These good old boys suggested a wonderful person even though, as they solemnly declared, I was a Yankee. Richmond Plumbing Specialties sits in a former McDonald’s restaurant right off Broad Street. Shelves upon neat shelves contain marvelous male and female bushers and adapters and fittings, the likes of which have not been seen in years. If I need to replace one minuscule part of an ancient 1955 faucet, you can betcha that they stock it. Plumbers just go there to ogle and tell tall tales and share plumbing horror stories. It’s also a great place for a single girl to hang out and smell the lovely aroma of testosterone if she hasn’t had a date in a while.
A few years back, one of my main squeezes proudly gave me a girlie tool bucket for my birthday. I was expecting jewelry, but it turns out that this bucket is one of the best gifts I’ve ever received. I still haven’t a notion of how to use half the stuff in it, but when a handy person (man or woman) comes to my rescue and asks, "Do you have a thingamajiggie wrench?" I hand them my girlie bucket. Lo and behold, the required tools are in it 90% of the time. Thanks, NR. You still warm the cockles of my heart. Oh, and your cockles weren’t too bad either.
But I digress.
All I need now is a good jack of all roof trades. Someone who is bonded, and who will clear my gutters and patch my roof for a reasonable price until I’ve saved enough mulah to afford a new roof and gutter system. Our houses are supposed to be our best investment, but mine, being of a certain age, is becoming a bit of a money pit.
Enough quibbling. Here is a photo of the James River. I walk along its shores every morning with my pooch, taking in the sights and sounds of river life along the quietest stretch of Riverside Drive. This morning a gaggle of geese landed in front of me, and a blue crane leisurely flapped overhead, looking for the perfect fishing spot. Life is good….as long as there’s a handy man in it.
Oh, and if you think Ms. Place is plumberly challenged, think again. I fixed the toilet all by myself. All I needed was a paperclip to attach the chain to the ball cock. Dahlings, such lovely language. I nearly fainted with delight. Isn't handy men language simply poetic?