Handyman DANDYman

Yesterday was my dad’s anniversary of going off to Heaven. While he wasn’t much of a handyman, he did always insist on the best of quality. And that’s one of the things I learned from him. Which is why I married Richard and became this handyman’s wife.

Why am I a handyman’s wife? Because Richard couldn’t survive without a project. And thank goodness for me because he has renovated or simply improved all of our homes—those we’ve lived in and those we’ve rented to others.

And whether it’s luck or talent on both of our parts, we’ve always had multiple offers when selling. People like the look and feel of our homes.

Honestly, this new one is beyond my senses. I must post pictures, but, you just don’t get the feel unless you’re IN it. Then your mouth drops and you stare around and are happy to go back to your home, all the while shaking your head and professing how pathetic we were to get ourselves into such a “project.” That’s why people like camping. They can play rough and rugged knowing that at the end of it all they are returning to a hot shower and clean bed with food in the refrigerator that they can toss in the microwave.

I agreed to Richard buying this house on the premise that we’d be living at my mother’s for a year or so. And this “project” would give him an escape on the weekends. When it was finished, we’d move in or sell it, and my impression was we’d sell it.

Oh well, “Nothing is certain but death and taxes,” as my mother often told me. I do know that Richard will make a beautiful home for me. And I do know that paint colors, new fixtures and flooring will bring the warmth in. So I must just be patient.

This morning Richard walked through the mess that at one time must have been lovely gardens and picked a magnificent bouquet of peonies and other flowers I must learn the names of.

My Richard is not just a handyman…he’s a DANDYman. I love him!