I had a weekend recently where everything just went wrong. The washing machine short circuited, killing power to half the house; the lawn mower has decided to chug along, seemingly just pushing the grass around rather than actually trimming it; the pool has been playing up, I know it's been hot but 72 degrees on the roof at 3am, I don't think so; and the house is infested by ants - I might be slightly exaggerating but the pesky little critters are having a party on my kitchen bench, scurrying off when I get home from work like teenagers caught in the act.
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And while I'm a strong, independent woman (must keep reminding myself of that everyday) I'll admit it all just made me feel a little helpless.
Luckily for me I've got a swag of friends who let me do washing (whoever would have guessed it takes two people the same amount of time to drink a bottle of champagne as it does for a top-loader to get through a load of towels), borrow lawnmowers, supplied advice and phone numbers and support.
But luckily for me I've also just decided to get on with it. Things fix themselves, theoretically speaking, or you find people to fix them, or, in the end just fix the bloody thing yourself.
Not a bad mission statement for life really.
Mind you I've spent more time in Bunnings this past year than I ever have. I promise I'm not trolling for men, I promise, but the ratio is pretty good. Lol! Head in before work and catch an early morning perv on the tradies or if handy dads are more your thing than the weekend crowd is always rewarding. I'll admit to that I've been known to suss out a man's online profile to see if he mentions any skill I might need. While you're here for dinner how about you fix that sticking gate for me. (Please read this paragraph in the spirit it was intended. I'm not doing any of this.)
I'm not trolling. I'm not. I'm learning how to fix things. For the first time ever I own my own tool bag. I'm not afraid to ask silly questions. I'm not afraid to ask for help. And I'm not afraid to bang that nail back into the fence with a little more force than it probably needed.
The highlight of my DIY adventures has been changing the flushing mechanism in the toilet myself. And having a plumber, who I had to call in for another problem I just couldn't fix, tell me I'd done a good job with it.
I know that Bunnings offers several useful DIY courses. Build a pergola, how to waterproof a shower, how to make a skipping rope. I'd like to see one on the agenda for the coming year: How to do those jobs around the house your husband always said he would do and maybe never did or maybe he did but it doesn't matter because you don't have a husband anymore. It might be a bit long to write on the blackboard out the front but I'll think of a catchier title.
Because I know I'm not the only woman in this situation. When a good friend found herself in a similar position we headed up to Bunnings and found a friendly staff member and explained the whole thing. Her husband had taken all the tools. They were his after all. What tools did she need to run her new home? He explained a few things, pointed out some options, and left us to discuss the best tools for the job.
It's easy to fall into these gender stereotypes when you're in a relationship. Or maybe that's half the problem. You mow the lawn. I'll cook us a nice dinner. You fix the leaking tap. I'll keep the towels fresh.
But now I'm doing it all. Or contemplating what needs to be done at least - my to do list is a long one. Weeds, what is it with weeds?
I know this feeling of helplessness will pass. I know none of this has to do with gender.
Just sometimes it would be nice to have someone to give the jar to when you can't open the lid yourself.
