Handyman and woman jobs

When a strategically located button fell off, all I had to do was hand the garment to Wendy, she would get out her needle and thread and subito, the button was back in place. Long ago, before Wendy came into my life, I sewed my own buttons back on. I remember doing this on a ship 60 years ago. One of the deck officers saw me doing it and before I knew what I'd let myself in for, I was sewing his fly buttons back on too. In those days, trowser flies had buttons, not zips. I had to rehabilitate that rusty skill yesterday when the button holding the waist of my pants in place came off. Threading the needle was the hardest part; I need to have my eyes tested... As I worked on replacing that button I reflected on how our skill sets evolved over the years, Wendy's especially so. Her early efforts at ad hoc home repairs often had end results evocative of Rube Goldberg or Heath Robinson, but 10 or 15 years into our marriage she was more proficient than I at many and widely varying household repairs. She mentions some of her achievements in her diaries, not in a boastful way but casually, just in passing, so to say. As I look around our apartment I see some examples of her handywoman skills. These skills didn't include plumbing, however. Plugged toilets and toilet cisterns that had ceased to work always remained part of my domain, maybe because I learned all about water-carried sewerage systems during my public health training. She watched me fixing our toilets a few times, however, and soon became as proficient as I with the toilet plunger. But not with cisterns, so they remained my specialty. I know when I'm out of my depth too, and not long ago I had to call in a professional plumber. An hour with a dentist or a psychoanalyst would probably cost less than the plumber's bill, so next time I see one of my grandchildren I think I'll suggest switching from university degree courses to an apprenticeship with a good plumber.