And then my father-in-law’s ears prick up and he says, “Huh, what? I’m not an electrician. I’m a farmer. F-A-R-M-E-R.” But I don’t listen and hand him a box of outlets.
Like you, I have a thing for outlets matching. And not being painted, caked with dirt, or existing in varying shades of ivory. Men have a harder time seeing the bigger picture. A picture that somehow involves them changing out outlets that appear, in all respects, to be perfectly fine. Which is why my father-in-law changes outlets for me. He raises his eyebrows, but makes no effort to stand in the way of progress. Marc, on the other hand, says, “I’m not changing no stupid outlets.” Or, “Hang your own chandelier.” Fortunately, Tractor Papa is free of these sorts of philosophical prejudices against womankind.
He visited last weekend and cruised through a box of outlets and switches, hung four light fixtures, and brought me a table. Behold.
Also, I was very happy he took down the giant fluorescent tube lights in the kitchen. I still need to paint the ceiling where he pulled them down, but it makes a huge difference. My husband had actually suggested that we just buy new covers and bulbs for the lights and call it good. Really, did he just say that? You have to question a person’s humanity at that point. Because that’s just wrong. Everybody knows it.
Fortunately, Marc’s father is a little more morally substantial. You can tell by the way he tucks in his shirt, belts on his Leatherman, and takes his electric razor with him when camping. Boy, on the other hand, doesn’t own an electric razor, can only tuck in half his shirt per occasion, and takes personal offense at the word “coordinating.” Luckily, he was born with back-up.