Auto"Blog"raphy of a Waitress & Mom: Handsome Just Not Handy

Tim was a Pretty Boy when I first met him in 1988. I remember one of the delivery guys for Johnny's Pizza, where I worked and met Tim, used to call him Timberly.

When we hit the financial skids, his hair turned totally gray seemingly overnight. At least he still has hair.

He's always been a good worker and diligent employee. He worked for Hartsfield Warehouse for almost ten years and never missed one day of work. Before that he worked for Engelman's Bakery and never missed day there either.

But here's his thing...

Once he is clocked out from work and home, he remains clocked out. It's pretty much my own fault. When I first met him he had just been through a pretty stressful divorce and I really felt sorry for him. I swooped in, took over and he allowed me to do so. I've always gone a mile a minute and will attempt anything myself, whether I know how to do it or not...usually using a trial and error method.

I've always loved yard work so Tim never had to worry about that. He still doesn't. When I first moved in with him, before we married, it was to help him be financially able to get rid of a deadbeat roommate. I had lived in a tiny but awesome one bedroom upstairs apartment, perfect for me and less than five minutes from work. Total rent, including utilities was $230 a month.

Tim had gotten the house in his divorce and I was all excited to have a yard, front and back.

No riding mower for me back then, but gladly pushed that mower every single week and pulled weeds by hand.

I trimmed the rose bushes and lined all the flower beds with loose rocks from a lot around the corner where they were clearing land to build a new house. I bet I loaded my tiny Nissan pick up with about fifty loads of rock they had scattered all over the place.

I scrubbed and cleaned the house and brought all my furniture with me to fill his empty home. I was living in heaven but also creating a monster.

I finally had a real house and yard to live and play in and he finally got a free and extremely willing live in maid and yard lady.

It was a win/win for both of us.

When we moved to Coweta County about six years later, we bought our first brand spanking new, recently constructed home.

I got to play house again but in a brand new house.

That was even more fun! I got to pick out the carpet, the wallpaper (never buy wallpaper) and they installed it all. I had brand appliances in the kitchen, four bedrooms, three baths, a sprawling back yard going beyond a creek (on our property) and a pretty big front yard as well.

We hit the big time!

I still did everything. Tim brought home the bacon, I fried it up and cleaned the kitchen afterward. He didn't have to lift a finger at home except to pick up his fork and eat the plate of food I plopped in front of him every night, and still didn't bother me one bit.

Then after twenty years of marriage, twenty two years of living together, the bottom dropped out. He lost his job and I simply picked up every available at LongHorn, where I was working at the time. I worked sometimes almost thirty days in a row. Tim looked and looked and looked for a job. Seems forty something year olds weren't high in demand in the rapidly tanking economy. He fell in to a pretty deep depression and literally found him on his knees several times a day in prayer, searching for an answer.

But I kept on keeping on. Housework, yard work and work work.

"Lather, rinse and repeat."

It got old quick.

Then it got on my nerves. Then he got on my nerves.

Then unbelievably I lost my job as well.

Even before all this happened, he wasn't exactly handy . I remember when our hot water heater quit working. One of my managers at LHorn also had a handyman service on the side. The hot water heater was located in the attic above the third floor of our house. My manager told Tim to go to Home Depot, buy a new one and get our two boys to help him haul the old one out, the new one in and he would come hook it up for free.

My manager came over after that to do his part and climbed his way into the attic with his tool box. Tim was at work so it was just me there. My manager came back downstairs with a puzzled look on his face. I asked him what was wrong? He said the new hot water heater in the attic was a gas one.

That meant nothing to me.

Then he pointed to the old one now sitting in the middle of the garage and said "He took out your old electric hot water heater but bought a new gas one. You don't have a gas line to the attic."

Oh, Jed.

Then again, he is married to me...

What's even worse is this is only one half of who I am.

Bonus points...

Yeah, ole Jed's a lucky, lucky man! (not)

I gave up trying to get him to do things around the house. He gets easily frustrated and is (usually) the only time his temper surfaces. It's not pleasant to be around.

My kitchen faucet and sprayer needed to be replaced one time so I went to Home Depot and bought a new one. I asked the guy if it was easy to install? He said "Sure, your husband can easily do it."

My reply?

"You can install this from a recliner?"

He chuckled and I asked him if he thought I could do it, he asked if I had any tools? I told him I had a pretty big wrench and a really big bottle of wine.

He said "Sounds like all you need!"

And it was.

Tim and I lived apart from each other for over two years once he started moving up the Haverty's ladder. First he lived and worked in Lubbock, Texas all alone. Then he got promoted again and transferred to Orlando, where my brother was gracious enough to let him stay at his place.

Then after a year working in Orlando we all moved down to join Tim and moved into our tiny temp rental sardine/dog can.

One (the only) good thing about renting is when something quits or breaks you simply call the landlord to fix it. It worked out great for us when Irma hit last year, destroying the privacy fence, ripping off gutters and half the roof tiles.

So the other morning, Tim went to leave for work about five in the morning. He opened our bedroom door, the knob came off in his hand and I heard parts drop onto the ceramic tile floor.

Tim:

"The bedroom door won't shut now, so be careful and keep Ziggy in here because Ham is in the living room."

Me:

"Nope! Just put Ham out back, it's seventy two degrees outside and I'm not risking a dog fight especially with you at work."

Jed: (notice the name change)

"Okay, I'll call the landlord today."

Was he effin' kidding me?

Total

moment.

I got up around ten(ish) and went to Walmart. The door knob cost me eight bucks. I had it replaced in less than five minutes with a phillips head screwdriver (no wine needed). I immediately sent 'Jed' a text saying the door knob had been replaced... before he called our landlord, who would most probably think of saying to Tim, what the above meme did.

Bless his heart, he just ain't a fixer. He's a good man with a good heart and good intentions. That's enough for me.

For all we have been and gone through, together, at least every step of the way has been accompanied by laughter and lots of it. Sometimes tears and worry but more often than not...laughter.

This was him the day I saw him off to Lubbock from the Atlanta airport before I clocked in for work. He spent over a year living alone in Texas and missed two Thanksgivings, Christmas' and every birthday in the family, including his own. He did it all for us, and would do it again and again if he had to.