Mygrant

        After almost 20 years of marriage, I have learned never to leave a home-improvement project to my mechanically challenged husband.

        I had some strong suspicions in the first year of our marriage, but because we had little money to spare, I was at his mercy. It didn't matter how big or small the project was, it would end up being such a huge project it would make constructing the A-bomb a walk in the park. It would inevitably require driving at least twice to the hardware store and keeping the kids at least 50 yards away as it went on.

        My husband is a stock analyst by trade. It is his job to analyze every nuance of a business to see if it is worth investing in. He is very good at his job. He applies these skills to home improvement.

TELL US YOUR STORY

In My Life is about recent significant moments — big and small — in people's lives. Readers are invited to submit columns, which become the property of the Enquirer.   • E-mail: Nancy Berlier, Deputy Features Editor, at nberlier@enquirer.com.   • Mail: In My Life, Tempo, Cincinnati Enquirer, 312 Elm St., Cincinnati 45202   • Fax: (513) 768-8330.

        First there is the crucial analytical period when no one is to interrupt his train of thought. Then he must decide on the background music. The right music for the job is crucial to set the mood. The proper mood is of great importance. If he isn't in the right mood the project could be delayed for days, weeks or even months.

        Finally, he begins the work. That's when the real trouble begins. Pieces don't fit right, parts are missing, directions are written by morons. I go to the store on the first of many missions to get replacements. The old guys in the store smile patiently and look for substitutes.

        I finally return home, armed with what I hope is a close facsimile of what he asked me to get. A #6, 2-inch, 3/8 galvanized, bevel-headed screw with a twist. (Oops! That last part was the drink.)

        By now both sides of his jaw are clinched and he threatens to go insane if I don't get rid of the kids. I would have been only too happy to disappear with the kids, but he needed me close to “hold this up for me.” That usually means holding something high over my head until the blood rushes out of my arm and I consider passing out, while he ponders what to do next. He fiddles around some more, then declares that I have brought home the wrong piece.

               An argument ensues. I maintain he should go to the hardware store himself. Ten minutes later, I'm in the car.

        The little project that should have lasted an hour, max, is sliding into the fourth hour. The kids are beginning to wonder if their dad has morphed into one of the nastier Pokemon characters. I plead with him to take a break and have a good stiff drink. I assure him that I can find someone to finish the job. But now, it is the principle of the thing. I do give him credit for giving up plumbing. He is learning his limitations. He can handle millions of dollars in a day without breaking a sweat. He just never should be allowed in the bathroom with a hammer and a drill.

        I made a deal with my well-meaning hubby. He won't turn the bathroom into Lake Erie, and I won't plug anything into the computer without his approval.

        Life is much more tranquil that way.

        Cindy Mygrant is a 41-year-old mother of three, ages 11, 10, and 5. She recently rejoined the work force as a preschool substitute.

Cincinnati has a jazz history
Young pianist adds a new note to jazz
5 steps to creating an exercise plan
Registration begins for Flying Pig relay
CincinnatiWalks sounds shape-up call
The Cincinnati Diet: Week 2 plan
KIESEWETTER: Bengal rookie wants to 'Kiss the Bride'
Mr. Fix It can turn a job into an ordeal
Ask A Stupid Question
Get to It