We dropped off my son, pretended to the client that we had worked together before, and then we started our day. There are some things I don’t do—don’t like to do. There are some things I think are man’s work and no matter that I am a feminist I don’t want to do certain things and feel absolutely unashamed about that fact. And unscrewing a kitchen full of cabinets with my client’s cheap cordless screwdriver and then walking them to the garage is one of those things. I have done it so many times—but my hired help was there for that reason. For god’s sake—a cordless screwdriver? You know, the kind that is more akin to an electric toothbrush than to a proper drill. I need some torque at the very least not a tiny whining thing stripping each screw head and bouncing about. And who the hell was I kidding? Did I really think I could paint a kitchen with Lu in the baby bjorn on a ladder?
And he came back the next day and finished a job that I alone would have spent probably two weeks doing. And I was grateful.
As for happy endings, my husband did come back. And he’s doing really well. And so are we. Right now he is putting together an Ikea desk for the studio with his beefy corded drill. Amazing what we can do if we have to. We are stronger than we know.