I had adapted, to the extent that I could, to the physical demands of running a house alone. I improvised often, I relied on my tallest friends to change my light bulbs, I paid people to do small (tho huge to me) tasks. And I ignored much.
Ignoring was the hard part because I had to sacrifice aesthetics for function just because I wasn't physically able to something, or I knew better than to try. Then... along came W and changed my life.
She flirted. I freaked. Then I didn't. So I flirted, and here we are three years later...
Is there anything she can't do, I exclaim more than ask. New toilet installed? Why not two? Want that heavy piece of furniture moved left just an inch? No problem, Sweets.
Several bird feeders have been repaired, locks changed, a patio heater rigged to work, gas grill assembled, lawn mower repaired, outside cameras for bird-watching were installed (seeing inside potential nests), potting soil loaded and unloaded, an adorable little bird fountain created, and she re-stuffed the loveseat cushions to perfection. The list is longgggggg.
Word has gotten out too, and she's the Honey of the cul de sac. W has moved a potted lemon tree, resolved several technical media issues, transferred wheelchairs, changed out electrical outlets, played Santa's elf, assembling a large gaming/desk chair in a matter of minutes on the sly.
We are all getting spoiled.
It was a few afternoons ago when that truth struck me. I had a failing freezer needing to be taken to the curb soon to make room for a new refrigerator being delivered. It is my nature to ponder such things for days: I could post a call for help on Nextdoor, I could buy the refrigerator from the place I bought the freezer so they would haul it off, or we could ask a close friend if he would come and help us.
I must surely drive W mad.
Next thing I know, we've borrowed a neighbor's appliance dolly and W has the large upright freezer tilted into position and down the inclined drive we go with W walking backwards, absorbing the weight of the freezer all the way to the curb. (What? Belts? We don't need no stinkin' belts!)
This girl, oh this girl of mine, she makes me nervous and makes me laugh, all at once.
There are more projects for her in wait: knives to sharpen, ceiling fan painting, full house window washing, leveling a concrete bird bath, clearing and cleaning out an entire garage.
There's never hesitation or a tiresome sigh. With any bare mention of something I'd like done, her dimple shows itself as she smiles the smile she can't hide, anticipating more to come of what brings her joy. Then, lastly, the flirt; "Don't worry, I got you, Boo."
That she does.
