Mr Fix-It is in the bathroom, right now, repairing the light switch. It doesn’t matter that it is 1:10 in the morning. It’s of no consequence that he’s tired like hell, (to the point that his eyes are completely bloodshot). No. The important fact is, that the switch in the bathroom has, suddenly and mysteriously fallen out of its socket and now hangs loosely against the wall.
Mr Fix-It is faced with the ‘what if’ dilemma. The ‘what ifs’ and ‘just in case’ scenarios that could possibly happen in this six-person household between now and the breakfast time part of the morning.
So, he’s collected his tool kit and is busy working his magic.
I have to say, I’m with him on this one.
After all, our inquisitive ten-year-old ADHD son could be faced with many urgent impulses to fulfil on his next toilet visit. Especially before his daily dose of Ritalin. And, to be frank, we’ve already ticked the electrocution box at the local hospital.
Or, our charming three-year-old daughter could poke her little, tiny fingers somewhere she shouldn’t.
I doubt the older girls would do something stupid. But, after the ‘drink toilet water’ dare, you never know.
A couple of birthdays ago, the children and I bought Mr Fix-It a Mr Mischief t-shirt. There were no Mr Fix-It t-shirts in store. Or, for that matter Mr Tickle t-shirts. Which, if I found myself in a crazy gun-to-the-head situation, whereby my only salvation would be to list my good husband’s top ten Mr Men qualities, would hit the nail on the head. Along with Mr Tall, Mr Clever, Mr Cheeky, Mr Brave, Mr Funny, Mr Strong, naturally Mr Clumsy and Mr Lover-Man. Oh, that last one isn’t a real Mr Man? Pity. OK: it would have to be Mr Perfect. *Sigh*.
The tenth one? The t-shirt covers it: Mr Mischief, of course.
You may be fooled into thinking, that if my husband is the one and only Mr Fix-It, that I, as his wife, am the diligent and capable Mrs Fix-It. Sadly, you would be (very) mistaken.
Indeed, had I my own tool kit, it would most likely to consist of: sellotape and blu-tac (to stick things back together); a hammer and a few nails (to keep items in their place) and some coloured pens (to hide my mistakes).
Furthermore, were I to be named after one of the Mr Men, I would definitely be Mr Bump. You see, my primal tendency is to destroy.
The good news is, that Mr Fix-It and Mrs Bump is truly a perfect match. Because, Mrs Bump always keeps Mr Fix-It busy and entertained. With some assistance from her four children. Having her genes and all.
Mr Fix-It informs me that he doesn’t actually enjoy fixing things, but cannot stand when something doesn’t function properly.
Recently our projector started to distort its own images due to the presence of dust.
Mr Fix-It could no longer comfortably watch television or DVD’s in his own home. Therefore the dismantling of the projector became necessary.
First step. Vacuum inside and remove the dust.
Second step. After much digestion of information available on the net, buy an air-spray, and blow out the dust, which would in turn be captured by a feckless assistant with a vacuum cleaner to hand (me).
Result: not mind-blowing.
Third step. A rerun of step two. With one exception. Well-meaning assistant off to town with a friend for sushi.
Consequences: Not good. Two cables damaged by sucking power of the Hoover. Thus, all images could only be seen in shades of green. One extremely stressed husband. Some swearing.
Fourth step: Mr Fix-It constantly fiddling, scraping, cutting, blowing, connecting, disconnecting, sweating. For several hours. While I commented on Facebook with helpful suggestions, in my ‘stay out of the way’ strategy.
Outcome: At last some shaky red! A relieved but unsatisfied man and his trying-to-be-consoling wife who offered up the possibility of watching television in funny colours. (Blue supposedly still astray).
Suggestion dismissed we moved to step five which saw more of step four, avoidance being my main objective, and perseverance that of my now somewhat intense husband.
Then came the shout. He had fixed it! Jubilation rang out all around the house.
The success of Mr Fix-It means that we can now watch telly not only in normal colours, but also dust free. Additionally, an old pair of tights has been transformed into an extra filter to help prevent dust from messing up further viewing experiences.
Although, we do now have a ‘dead pixel’ on the right hand side of the screen. A red dot to remind us of our adventure.
Mr Fix-It is under strict instructions not to attempt to repair the projector again.
Perhaps, in his gun-to-the-head circumstance, my Mr Fix-It would actually describe me as his Little Miss Bossy.
Truth is, living with Mr Fix-It brings out in me Little Miss Sunshine. He fixes not only our household goods (or those of other people we happen to visit). Not just the items that we unfortunately damage. But also the problems and difficulties we face in everyday life. Or at least, he tries to. Obviously, he doesn’t always avail. But having someone here, doing his best for us, every day. That’s something that I often feel the need to shout out loud about.