Household Word: The ‘H’ Word

A new business opened just down the street from my house. It’s called “Rent a Husband.” No kidding. Turns out, it’s not a stud service. It’s a place you can call to have a man with a truck come clean out your gutters or fix your backyard gate. My own husband jokes that since it’s called “Rent a Husband,” they probably send a guy over to watch basketball and fall asleep on your couch.

Frankly, if I was going to pay good money to rent a husband, I wouldn’t waste him on household chores. I’d rent one who liked to dance and bring him to my nephew’s bar mitzvah or get one who wouldn’t grumble about spending Friday night at the movies seeing that new romantic comedy with Pierce Brosnan.

But I already have a husband and even though I will have to wait until “Laws of Attraction” comes out on video and beg my husband  to dance at the bar mitzvah, he works cheap. Good thing, because when something breaks in our house, my guy doesn’t grab his toolbox, he reaches for his wallet.

It’s true, my husband is talented in many areas. He’s got a steady job, he can name the entire 1972 lineup of the Philadelphia Phillies and his grilled steak tips are perfection. But he isn’t handy. Neither of us is. In fact, at our house, it’s practically a profanity. We call it the “H” word. Handy.