I don’t quite understand why most men seem to dismiss the idea of specialization and believe they’re capable of doing absolutely everything themselves. They carry a bag that contains every tool imaginable—and unimaginable—for fixing things. Or rather, for causing more problems. But I won’t make accusations without evidence; here are some daily snapshots, and I’ll let you be the judge.
Satellite Dish Malfunction
Opening Scene: It was a lovely evening in front of the TV, with a bowl of salted nuts, a pot of hot tea, and plenty of breaking news keeping us engaged with the world’s happenings. Suddenly, the screen switched from moving images to a silent, blue screen. After a quick analysis, my husband and I concluded that censorship must be behind this interruption. Perhaps something in the news was deemed anti-Semitic, or maybe some Arab leader was mentioned unfavorably. After waiting a bit, we tried other channels and realized our high-level security instincts had failed us; the issue wasn’t censorship but rather a misaligned satellite dish! As usual, my husband offered to go up to the roof to fix the problem, and the phones came out.
• “Can you see anything now?”
• “No… still nothing.”
• “How about now?”
• “No change.”
• “And now?”
• “Honey, nothing’s showing up.”
As usual, I suggested calling a professional to save time and allow us a peaceful night’s sleep, as I had long abandoned the idea of a nice TV evening. But as always, my husband refused and launched into an explanation of how satellite dishes work. Second Scene: My husband is now struggling with the satellite dish while the bowl of nuts and the tea have made their way to the roof. Closing Scene: The sound of footsteps—the repair technicians are finally on their way up to the roof.
The Faucet
Opening Scene: Strange sounds began to come from the kitchen faucet, and while I didn’t rush to discuss the importance of addressing it with my husband, I figured the faucet’s music would eventually prompt him to act. After all, if he can handle a wife’s nagging, he can handle a noisy faucet.
He entered the kitchen with his usual toolkit and warned the family to stay out. Second Scene: Water started spraying everywhere, and the faucet head was now in my husband’s hand while the repairman frantically tried to shut off the main water supply.
Internet Crisis
Opening Scene: We were both immersed in our computers, each deeply engaged in critical Facebook discussions. Suddenly, the internet stopped working, a disaster of epic proportions, signaling a desperate need for a quick intervention. As usual, my husband grabbed “that” toolkit and headed outside to inspect the phone cables. Second Scene: A heated argument ensued between my husband and our neighbor, who came out to complain about his phone line being disconnected.
The Keys
I learned the key to many things, but I have yet to figure out the “key” to my husband. Having the right key means access to anything you want, but what if you don’t have it, or it stops working? That’s exactly what happened with the gas knobs, which were no longer functioning as they should. Since I still don’t know my husband’s “key,” I gave in to him heading into the kitchen with “that” toolkit to fix the knobs. Second Scene: The outcome was impressive! The gas knobs did work, but in reverse. When turned on, the gas stopped flowing, and when turned off, gas leaked out. Adapting to this reverse mechanism would require reprogramming the mind or preparing to live in a world where everything operates backward.
The Doctor
Opening Scene: Next to my daughter’s bed, I held a cold, wet towel on her forehead to bring down her fever. My husband swapped his usual bag for a medical kit filled with an assortment of medicines, bandages, cotton, and red antiseptic—but, notably, without a stethoscope. After a few questions directed at our daughter—questions that only got head-shakes as responses—he pulled out a painkiller (Panadol), dissolved it in water, and assured her she’d feel better after drinking it. He then launched into a detailed explanation of the human body, the causes of fever, and the studies warning against overuse of antibiotics. Second Scene: The cold towel had turned warm, and now the doctor himself was carrying a new bag with a stethoscope.
The Conclusion
I’ve gained new skills in the art of listening, adding a wealth of knowledge on satellite dishes, internet outages, gas knob mechanics, and red and white blood cells. I’ve also honed my adaptability and developed strategies for dealing with reverse-order situations.
As for me, all I wish is for my husband to master just one skill—just one: the skill of delegation.