1950-Tupperware Party: Hots for the Repairman (update: May 24, 2007)
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My father was somewhat handy (although he wasn’t one to fix everything in lieu of taking it to a professional). I guess he would be closer to a Mr. Give-It-A-Go-Before-Going-To-The-Mechanic. After he passed away, I confess the latent image of his handiness must have enlarged a little over the course of eroding memory. Still, I feel a void now and then, when a man isn’t around the house to get at that mysterious realm of nuts and bolts that belong to the world of hairy arms on adjustable wrenches.Whenever we call a pro in these days, it’s positively a thrill for me. I always follow them to the trouble spot and explain what is suppose to happen. “Well, this thingamabob doesn’t seem to want to get started, when that wingding comes on. So I press that widget that turns a scary flame, but it doesn’t want to cooperate….” And inevitably, Mr. Pro will always say “Oh well, here’s what’s causing the problem you see: It’s the-”
And from that moment, always that moment, I blank out and swoon into dizzying hot flashes of 1950 housewifedom. Just to be so helpless with that misbehaving dryer in the laundry room of my little home, and to have a man come in to my life and tell me exactly what is wrong and proceed to fix it.
There’s nothing that puts me in a trance faster than to have a stranger expert take care of my problems. It must be no secret by now that I like a man in charge. However, to have that soothing knowledge that a dependable man is around, a man whom I can rely and lean on, a man who will come through, is much more satisfying than any flowery Harlequin novels promises to be.
Another moment came when I brought my wristwatch to a local department store to get fixed. It turned out to be nothing more than a battery change. But to have a pleasant man in a suit smile and say, “All it needs is a new battery, we’ll take care of it. Have a seat Miss.”
Oh, what unmatched sensation to have a man come to my rescue in my times of domestic distress! I daresay it’s better than…
Two dozen chocolates with a glass of Chateau Lafitte-Rothschild, and a twelve-setting showerhead!