The Fix It Man in Florida - IP
By TJW
- 79 reads
The women in my life don’t know where I live. Mama called me this morning, woke me up, damn it, to ask me to “fix the problem light in her car.” Saturdays are my only sleep in days and she woke me up for that. Mama, I said, I can’t see the problem light so how the hell do you expect me to fix it? I’m in Florida, remember? She goes on to describe it and I figure out it’s the TPS light. I tell her she needs to put air in her tires to make the problem light go away. Also, where’s her husband? Why isn’t he there to fix it? Your father is in Alabama, she informs me, coming back Sunday. Well. He’s in Alabama and I’m in Florida, so . . . ? Tell her how to put air in the tires, she says and I inform her to use an air compressor, if she’s got one and if she doesn’t then go to a gas station as they usually have one but she’ll have to pay, better have some change. Mama doesn’t know if she has an air compressor because she doesn’t know what is an air compressor. I tell her I’ll call her back in about half an hour. I splash cold water on my face, brush my teeth, brew some coffee, feed the rabbit, have a smoke and call her back.
Sidebar -
Smoked outside in my backyard wearing only trousers; yep, it’s that comfortable in Florida while the rest of the country is getting its ass kicked by a bitch of a winter storm. We’ll be praying for y’all down here.
Mama, I say to her, open the trunk. I say this because if she has an air compressor her husband would have put it in her trunk. She opens it. It’s empty. Well, mama, check the backyard shed. She checks it but doesn’t know what she’s looking for and after maybe twenty minutes I tell her that she needs to go to a gas station and use its air pump. It’ll have a sign on it: AIR. But how much air does she put in it? Open your driver side door, mama, there’s a chart that will show you the PSI for each tire. What’s PSI? Doesn’t matter, mama, just pay attention to the number. If you can’t figure it out ask one of the employees to help you. Why should she do that, she wants to know, when I can just stay one the phone with her and give her step-by-step directions? No, mama, just call me when you get to the gas station. Drink my coffee. Give the rabbit some cookies. Change the snakes’ heat lights from night time to day time. Toss the tarantula a couple of mealworms. Here comes the callback: Hi, Thad, it’s mama (I know it is, why does she say that all the time?) and I’m here at the gas station but I don’t see anything that has AIR written on it. Mama, go inside and ask if they have an air pump. She does and she says Hi, good morning, my son says I need air in my tires and he wants to know if you have an air pump. Oh . . . Thad, he says they have one and he’s going to show me where it is and how to use it.
Sidebar -
Thank you, Jesus.
A couple hours later sissy calls wanting me to “turn on the stupid generator” because the winter storm has knocked out power in her neighborhood. Sissy, you do understand that I’m in Florida? And where’s your husband? He’s at work. He won’t like being disturbed at work by stupid generator questions while he’s doing important Pentagon business. Well, sissy, you’ve got two grown sons who actually live in your vicinity, ask one of them. She already asked and they don’t know. But . . . but how does she think I know? I don’t even know what kind of generator she has: gas, electric, solar? Hell, I didn’t know she has a generator.
Sidebar -
Ain’t seen sissy in going on four years now. But she calls me up thinking I know how her house is outfitted. She’s been doing this all her life. Calling me when she has a flat tire, when there’s a “nasty bug thing” in her yard or, this one time, when she was watching a hockey game and didn’t understand why Team USA removed its goalie, all kinds of shit all sort of reasons random and out of the blue.
Figured out the stupid generator is electric and eventually figured out how to make the stupid thing generate. She says, Okay, Thad, thank you, we’re alright now. Are you alright? I remind her again that I’m in Florida, of course I’m alright, it’s 60F here, I got the a/c running, I’m lounging around bare-chested. I got fans circulating the cool air. Hell, I might turn off the a/c and open the windows. Why? Because I am in Florida!
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Comments
What they should do (and I'm
What they should do (and I'm sure you absolutely wouldn't want them to do) is send you an expensive phone with facetime on it- then you could see what they were talking about!
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They should all move to
They should all move to Florida! Or perhaps not! ![]()
I wouldn't mind being there now...
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sound like your the guy they
sound like your the guy they turn to when...[list here]? when they don't need you, you don't exist. But Florida does. Next to heaven or hell and full of people that don't know how to fix things.
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JJ - we have a saying here -
JJ - we have a saying here - 'if you want something doing ask a busy person'. It's a compliment that they ask you, because you seem to be the only competent male in the family, but I guess it's a compliment you don't really want.
I despair of how women ask a man to do something for them, when they're perfectly capable of doing it themselves. There's usually a manual, and if not then the instructions to do absolutely anything will be on the internet. I changed a tap washer with my laptop showing a Youtube video of someone changing a washer on exactly the same sort of tap, right next to me. Didn't need to be strong. Didn't need to be clever. Just needed a spanner.
And don't get me started on tyre pressures ! I do my own out the front of my house, jumping up and down on an old fashioned foot pump. Good honest exercise. I know where the sticker is on the driver's door which shows the pressures. But I guarantee every time I do this (and I do mean every time) : a) the men will all stop and ask me if I want help b) the women will all stop and say 'oh you are clever doing that yourself !' Honestly I could weep.
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Sweetheart that is such a
Sweetheart that is such a good answer.
I'm torn too. I hate to feel dependent on a man. My dad left us, and my mum brought me and my sister up with a 'who needs a man anyway' mentality, which I must say has served me in good stead.
But, yeah, it's good to feel protected. It would be good to feel there was a man there if, and when, I needed him. There isn't one, but if I was being honest I would say it would feel good to know someone's got my back.
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Nice to be appreciated, a bit
Nice to be appreciated, a bit. And I think with all the frustration you do enjoy it somewhat. Some people are quicker at figuring things out than others. My grandchildren are inclined to say if something breaks, Grandpa will fix it! (their dad is trying to be better at figuring things out, but he is a great musician!). And actually yesterday it was me that was waylaid and asked to sew the lamb's ear back on! I find my husband is so into sorting out what is wrong, but he doesn't find it easy to teach me.
Rhiannon
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