I need a committee of handymen to walk about my house, garage, and
yard and just look it over. Oh, she needs that doorknob tightened, oh she needs
those bricks lifted and sand backfilled where the chipmunks ruined her walkway,
oh look, she needs the oil removed from her garage floor. There are a million
things like that, so prevalent and pervasive I nearly don’t see them anymore. These
are the kinds of things men see and just know
how to fix. It’s in their genetic code. No insult intended to the women I know
who have this skill.
I want to go to the grocery and buy absolutely anything and everything I both need and want. Stockpile, even.
I need an army of gardeners
for a day. The front yard looks like a cyclone passed through, and I’m starting
to get rumblings of complaints. The neighbors aren’t happy. It’ll look great in
a month when the thousands of cream-colored daffodils I planted over the years all
bloom, but right now the house looks abandoned. The broken window boxes drooping
off the second story windows don’t help, either. I need someone who knows how
to repair those, too. I’ll even fill ‘em this year. I used to do that all the
time, and I miss it; they look so cute.
I want to go shopping. It’s
been years. I’d been promised a shopping trip for my birthday last December,
but that didn’t happen.
I need a few guys with
chainsaws to cut and stack the trees that have already fallen, and maybe cut
down one or two more. Several are tilting worse than I do on Tequila Friday
Night.
I want new towels. Mine are
in tatters and good for maybe washing the dog, if that. They’re 18 years old,
if that tells you anything. Maybe new towels should fall under need instead of
want.
I need someone to help me
fix and possibly expand my compost bin. I’ve gotten much more serious about the
process lately; it’s a better use of leaves, coffee grounds, and eggshells than
tossing them into the landfills. With the push to “go green,” I’m surprised
more of my neighbors aren’t into it.
I want to eat something for
dinner besides rice and beans. Nothing wrong with those, but enough already. You
know it’s a problem when, rather than fantasizing about cabana boys and beaches
and umbrella drinks, you fantasize about shrimp, asparagus, fish, goat cheese, pine
nuts, and any other fresh vegetable or exotic foodstuff.
I need someone who knows how
to rewire a floor lamp. Drop something on the base, and the bulb explodes. I’m
going blind back here, working in the dark. Which is better – fire hazard or
bi-focals?
I want to get the car’s air conditioner
fixed. It freaks people out when I tell them I’ve gotten used to driving it in
90°F weather and find myself ok with that.
I need to get the car’s leaking
head gasket fixed so it’ll stop dripping oil in the garage and I won’t have to
worry about the engine anymore. I’ve got a guy monitoring the situation and he
says he’s seen this make and model run forever with that problem and have no
issues. Even so, in the middle of a road trip, you keep an uneasy eye out for
the oil light.
I want wine and an assortment
of alcoholic beverages in the house. Considering my lifestyle of the past six
years, maybe that, too, should be classified as a need.
I need a boyfriend. Notice I
didn’t say want one. Being scarred
for life by the last relationship, if a guy so much as looked my way twice, I’d
probably bolt like Bambi, over the hill and through the woods, never to be seen
again until I was sure he was gone from my doorstep. But need one? I suppose. Someone to make sure I’m still alive at the
end of the day and haven’t done something like left a candle burning or the stove
on or the garage door open overnight. Not that I’ve ever done any of those
things, of course.
This is just the short list.
I want/need all of this to
happen soon.
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