Mr. Fix-it

You can’t say that I’m not handy. If I put my mind to it, I can pretty much do whatever needs to be done. But that’s the thing; it really needs to be done. I don’t go round the house searching for things to improve. If you were to show me a bathtub that holds water, I would say that was one fine bathtub. Show the same tub to Paul and he would find eighty seven things about it that need to be fixed; things like the yellow caulking or the rust spots or the gouges on the bottom of the tub that make it look like a desperate dog in need of a pedicure was trapped in it for a weekend; cosmetic things. Are you able to wash yourself in it? Alrighty then.

I’m not going to waste my precious time and energy on something that does not want to be changed. Last I noticed the bathtub was not aspiring to become the sink or the toilet. Although, I can’t imagine anything wanting to become a toilet, but people choose to become proctologists, so I suppose anything is possible. The bathtub is perfectly happy the way it is. Some might call it grime, but I call it patina.

Paul does not like patina.

I was perfectly content to leave the metal soap dish in our tub on top of the rust spot. Even though we don’t use bar soap, I thought the dish was a nice nostalgic touch. More importantly, it served its purpose as a cover up. It was left by the previous owner, who was probably a lot like me; someone who was comfortable with patina.

But when Paul installed the body soap and shampoo dispensers and purchased an inventory of those products that would last us one thousand Silkwood showers I knew the soap dish would soon be history. And with the soap dish gone the tub would reveal a pock mark too great for Paul to ignore.

I tried to divert his attention by painting the bathroom vanity, and did a pretty good job too. I just wish I remembered to paint all of the sides. While he was in the shower taking inventory of everything that was wrong with the bathtub, he glanced at the vanity.

“Uh, sweetie, did you forget something?” He shouted from the shower.

I didn’t really forget. I just couldn’t figure out a way to paint the side of the vanity that faced the tub. Who was going to see it from that angle anyway? I’ll tell you who, Paul.

Shortly after that, Paul made an appointment to have the bathtub refinished, and since we had to move the vanity in order for the refinisher to take care of the bathtub, he reasoned that there was no use in putting the old vanity back in its place, or the faucet, or the shower doors. I made certain not to stand around the bathroom to avoid being replaced too, because truth be told, I have a little patina on me.

While the bathtub was being refinished we had to shower at the gym around the corner. On this particular occasion, Paul made a comment about a young guy’s arms and how he would like to develop his own to look the same.

If you are at all the insecure type, you should probably not workout at a gym where the average age of the member is roughly half of your own age. Furthermore, you should not take showers at said gym, lest you begin to compare your body to a newer model.

“So, you liked his arms, huh? I’m sure he’s on the juice.” I said while throwing in an accusing look for good measure.

“They look natural enough to me.” He wasn’t even willing to give me that.

“But, I love my mono-pack” He said smiling while rubbing my belly. I could tell he meant it too. Maybe a little patina on the things you love does enhance the look. But, I’m not taking any chances. I’m pretty handy so I think I can make some improvements; another mile on the treadmill, another repetition.  Now I need to work on wanting to change.


P.S. How do you like my comic strip?  Never took a single drawing class!

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