“It all goes,” Kim said. I hung up the phone, dragged Gary out of the shower, and headed down the street to our fancy neighbor’s house to see her soon-to-be-demo’d kitchen.
“We’d love your appliances,” Gary said, knowing of course that he’ll be out of town when they have to be removed from Kim’s house and transported to our work site – a refrigerator, stove, and double oven with a warmer, all stainless and a sweet upgrade from the 70's kitchen that came with our fixer. I know Gary wanted those cabinets too, but he was leaving town and couldn’t make it happen. I could just see the disappointment all over his face, those pricey stylized cabinets slipping through his grasp.
Gary heads up north today, to our other life – he'll have to chase out a squatter, make a few repairs and sign up a new tenant. I dropped him off at the airport, and before I even got back home he was already whining about the inconveniences of travel.
After complaining about boarding procedures, overpriced snacks and not having a pillow, he texted me a photo of his knees jammed against the seat in front of him. Okay, it does look a little tight.
But with him out of the house, and the precious kid already dropped at school, I indulged in my fantasy: labor. Yep, I love a handy man, especially ones I’m not related to by blood or marriage. I yearn for a plumber, an electrician, a professional painter. A guy with a weed whacker, someone whose truck is full of debris that I haven't lifted.
So sorry, Honey, first class seats aren’t in the budget. But a little labor is, and you’ll be pleasantly surprised when you come home.