Quite often I find that when my husband does a household job
that is next on the list that he always requires me to act has his assistant. My
jobs must be managed solo. The job in question today was getting a wire to pass
through a small hole that he drilled a couple of days ago. The wire needs to be
threaded through a covered space underneath a fitted desk, so there is not any
visual on it. It then needs to go through another small hole to exit into the
kneehole area of the desk. So far this little operation has taken two hours.
He told me that lay the other side (the kneehole side) with
a torch. After a while he decided that we should change ends, which was when I
realised that the holes were not even closely aligned. I told him this. He came
to look and agreed then took credit for that discovery.
He asked me to go and get him a wire coat hanger. I laughed
at that, because as I reminded him; they are something that he has a serious
dislike of, and sends every one that may come back from the cleaners, to the
tip if any dare to find their way into our home. He insists that there must be
one somewhere. I am polite enough to have a quick search but know full well
that no such item is permitted under our roof.
He asks for a spare shoe lace. “What like the ones I asked
you about and you put in the dustbin last week?” He asks for a piece of wire. I
remind him that wire, screws, hammers, screw driver’s etc. all belonged to him
and would be where he placed them, wherever he keeps them neatly put away somewhere
where he can instantly find them. He gets up off the floor and goes downstairs
and out into the garage returning quite quickly with a length of wire. He asks
for some string, I offer thread since this is not only the office and my personal
writing space (Something I have politely negotiated) and it is also my sewing
room. I get up this time and select a firm length of thread. Now that the piece
of wire has finally given in, after a long period of twiddling to pass through
the second hole, I am then instructed to gently pull the wire that is tied to
the thread that is tied to the electric wire that is what the job it all about,
through the knee hole end of the desk.
I pulled the wire very gently through and it ends at a small
eye the he has made with the pliers. The thread is tied to that. I am
instructed to carry on easing it bit by bit through between the two holes. I
pull the thread along very gently until it stops where I can see the offending
electrical wire tied to the thread when I peer into the hole. At this point we
change ends again which is a bit of relief because it means changing the shoulder
you are lying on too.
Finally it is through. The purpose of the entire operation
is so that there are not wires all over the place so that the desk looks
neater. This is a good thing because, I had claimed this space for myself and
now he has moved in a little at a time. I am still making it firmly but gently clear,
that the window end of the room and the next eight feet of room space in this
room are mine all mine. This is my own little piece of space, my quiet space,
my thinking space, my peaceful place. I have been quietly insisting that he can;
now that he has fitted his computer from our work office here, in this spare
room, work there, when I am not doing my pesky writing thing.
I will work together with him business wise, first thing office
hours in the morning and then middle to late afternoon. I need that private space
time whilst I am not tired and can still think. Just a two or three hours a
day. I don’t think that is unreasonable and he agrees, but it’s like trying to
train a pet, or handle a teenager, he keeps pushing the boundaries. However, I
am very good at pet training.
I feel that this is well and peacefully concluded where
others might have killed each other. Neither of us raised our voices or made
faces or performed deep sighs. It can be done people.
No comments:
Post a Comment