When Kevin Kline, good guy husband, agrees to be a sperm donor for single gal Mary Kay Place, I think of all the husbands I've enlisted to help with a project or two.
Dave helped my brother and I with a railing on the front porch. Aaron connected my first propane tank in the gas grill (he noted that I was "such a girl"). My brother-in-law dutifully showed me how to change out an outlet. Johnny saved me from crown molding hell and a couple of other disasters.
Will was the latest recruit -- he helped me switch out a light fixture in the bathroom. I don't like to touch electricity.
"For you, it'll be a 10-minute job," I joked.
Ten minutes later, Will is on his way to Lowe's. He comes back with washers and toggle bolts.
"In a modern house," he drolly begins, "you would have a junction box here. But this isn't a modern house." Instead there are two woolly wires sticking out of the wall.
The bracket for the light fixture is designed to be affixed to a junction box. Will got the washers to float the screws from the bracket to the fixture, and the toggle bolts secured the breaker. Very MacGyver.
Three hours later, with light fading, we get it done.
Another husband, spent.