DIY Man

Keeping the nagging of my husband to an absolute minimum is a firm rule of mine. Being the son of a woman who was a Nag-bag of Olympic standards, I realised early in out relationship that I had better practice tactics as far away from his old mum’s methods as possible. That was something that the poor woman never ever got her head around. Nag Steve; and all that happens is that job will be put off and put off and put off…. Until Hell Freezes Over! He is one of those men that doe’s not respond to being pecked at. 

My method is to leave any DIY for Steve to notice. He will do it, once it becomes a pain in the butt to him. I notice though that he always requires me to assist when he does decide to get a home job done. Pass the screw driver, screws, etc. Hold the drill, ladder, steps. Fetch the hammer, and clean up any mess. I say nothing other than, “Let me know when you need coffee darling”. 

I notice though, that Steve does not seem to think that I do need an assistant when I set out to do a household job, or gardening. My jobs are it seems, my jobs. This rule stops at maintaining my bike, thank heaven and all the saints. Steve tends to my bikes tiniest need immediately. He NEVER tells me when to do this or that around the house. That may be so that I can never say, “Why don’t you do it”. Who would complain when he cooks so well and wants me the stay out of the kitchen until he calls for serving up help. He gives me count down times to make sure I am available once needed. 

We have peaceful arrangements. And, it suits me well enough.