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Illustration by Drew Shannon
When the “spinny thing” in my dishwasher suddenly came untethered after I thoughtlessly overloaded the appliance, I knew who to call: My spouse. “I think we need to buy a new dishwasher,” I texted. His immediate reply was: “Not before I look at it!”
I don’t want to purchase a new dishwasher, but I have a sense that it is nearing its last rinse cycle. However, being partnered with “Mr. Fix It” means that our particular appliance may live beyond its natural life. The Maytag repairman has nothing on my guy.
Living with such a practical chap has certainly been money-saving, if not always elegant. When my overpriced hair dryer ceased to fulfill its purpose, he replaced the electrical plug whatever he found in his toolbox, ready to go. Never mind that the plug was industrial, big enough to have powered a refrigerator or lawn mower.
It seems there is nothing he cannot fix. He changes his own oil and brakes. He has installed light fixtures, ceiling fans and garage door openers. He has assembled garden sheds and gazebos. He has built motorized bicycles, installed new shutoff valves, laid down engineered flooring, and repaired toasters, vacuum cleaners and, yes, our dishwasher. In fact, the “spinny thing” in our dishwasher (which I am informed is properly called a “spray arm”) is now expected to outlast the life of the appliance. Funny what a new bolt and a couple of well-placed zip ties can do in the hands of a pragmatic genius.
He is self-taught, I might add – my husband’s day job as a university professor is completely cerebral.
Watching him brings me new respect for those who are clever with their hands (I am completely impractical when it comes to such things). I have concluded that it takes more than just knowledge of how these gadgets work, it also requires imagination and an understanding of possibilities. Being a good repairperson is as much an art as a science. If Plan A doesn’t work, go back to the drawing board and find another way around the problem. And so on and so on. In our house, “MacGyver” has become a verb. Only in extreme cases will my man concede and agree to allow a professional to be called in.
But, of course, there are downsides to being with Mr. Fix It. He gets the same buzz off a new reciprocal saw as I get off a new purse. There is the sheer abundance of tools in our home that can be oppressive. He has duplicates – sometimes triplicates – of almost everything: screwdrivers, handsaws, wrenches, ratchets and so very much more. Then there are the larger items such as chainsaws, table saws and bench grinders that take up so much space. And it seems there is always a need for more tools – items that can do specialty work in a pinch. A trip to the local hardware store is an exercise in restraint for him, as I pointedly ask, “But where will we put it, honey?” or “Don’t you already have five of those?”
Every single screw, nut and bolt must be preserved, and nails hammered straight because “I might need them someday.” Friends, knowing his penchant for hanging on to this stuff, assuage their guilt about the environment by offering him their unwanted hardware and tools. Over the years he has also been given dishwashers, vacuum cleaners, light fixtures and any number of other items that can be cannibalized for parts, if not repaired and used again outright.
He has become everyone’s “go-to” guy when there is a problem. When the family cottage toilet won’t flush properly, he gets the call. When a friend needs the leaky faucet repaired or replaced, he’s asked to help out. He never asks a cent for the work and repayment is usually offered in the form of his favourite bottle of rum or gin.
But being handy also means having injuries – often in the form of bruised, cut or scraped hands. Laying flooring is a full-body experience and requires days of recovery. But my husband’s recent hip-replacement surgery has given him a new lease on life. Nonetheless, old war wounds combined with aging are taking their toll.
With retirement looming large and the accompanying realization that life is finite, it has recently occurred to my spouse that he will likely not need all this handyman flotsam and jetsam. He is valiantly trying to fight his lifelong tendency to save everything because that rainy day may just not arrive in time. The battle is ongoing, but letting go of old habits is hard.
Oh, but what light doth through [recently repaired] window break? There is a new glow on the horizon of household repair. Our younger son has decided to head into the skilled trades. Fix It Senior has taken full advantage of this reality to impart whatever wisdom he can to Fix It Junior, sharing the myriad ways of repairing a fan or sanding and staining a door. Junior is also likely to inherit a complete set of tools (or several sets) when the time comes.
In the meantime, a tiny secret part of me was looking forward to replacing the 10-year-old white dishwasher with a quieter stainless-steel version. That dream will have to wait a little longer. But when our ancient machine finally goes to appliance heaven, I know I will be able to count on Mr. Fix It to install the new one.
Marina Boehm lives in Toronto.