If it is not broken, don’t fix it

If it is not broken, don’t fix it

I can always depend on my husband, Joe, to fix everything but I really hate to admit when I’ve done something stupid that causes the problem.

The other day, I was trying to do a quick vacuuming of the downstairs. I think we all know what that means - I’m not going to move anything; I’m just going to sweep around it and hit the high traffic areas. Any dust bunnies or dead bugs that aren’t visible from behind the sweeper are going to be safe until another day.

All was going well until I got to the living room.

There was a cord lurking near the couch, and I didn’t know it was there until I heard the awful sound of it wrapping around the brush roller on the sweeper. Yikes.

It was in there good too. It was wrapped around that brush roller at least 5 or 6 times on the one side. I really wanted to wait for Joe to come take it apart, but he wasn’t available at the moment. So, I got down on the floor and gingerly made an attempt to get the cord out. I learned gingerly wasn’t going to work.

So, I started pulling a little harder and finally it started to unwrap. Whew.

What a relief, that was until I turned the sweeper back on. The brush roller that is so good at picking up extra dirt wasn’t going around. Panic was setting in but maybe I should try it again. I turned the sweeper off and back on. No luck, the brush roller still wasn’t going around.

Apparently, it was all that brute force I had used pulling the cord out that was the problem. Yes, I had to admit it, I had broken the sweeper.

This admission set Joe into action, he grabbed the sweeper and turned it upside down. I handed him a Phillips screwdriver, as that is the extent of my knowledge of tools. There’s Phillips screwdrivers and regular ones.

Oh wait, there are also hammers, crescent wrenches, pliers and needle nose pliers. See, I know more than I thought.

Joe was getting a bit frustrated, he thought I could be doing this myself. He even went so far as to insinuate that men aren’t interested in women who can’t use tools.

In his own mind, he’s convinced there are lots of other women out there who are fixing their own sweepers and using power tools to do regular maintenance around their homes on their own. Yes, without help from anyone.

I’m sure there are but that’s not me. Why did I get married if not to have someone with a healthy knowledge of handyman-ship to fix my mistakes?

I once worked with a woman who could fix anything on her own, including cars, once she’d watched the appropriate YouTube video. It was impressive. She is a person to be admired, but that doesn’t look so good for me. I’m not going to tell Joe that story.

Joe starts taking screws out of the sweeper and trying to figure out how he is going to get to the brush roller. He even dug out the owner’s booklet for the sweeper. All in all, he spent about half hour working on it.

I hovered close by trying to look concerned and offering to help if he needed it, like I would really be any help.

Finally, Joe said to turn on the sweeper. I do and the brush roller bursts into action. Yay.

“What was wrong with it? What did you do to fix it,” I asked.

“There are two settings on the power switch,” Joe said. “You didn’t push the button down far enough to get to the setting that turns on the brush.”

Oh, I thought I did, surely something else happened.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

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