My husband is a big manly man

Our toilet needed a new flush valve for a long time. I bought a replacement, and it sat in the bathroom for months and months while my husband ignored it and continued to complain regularly about the fact that the toilet was continually leaking. Sick of ineffectively nagging, even when I brought in outside support (thanks for the back-up, Beth and Jon!), and buoyed by the fact that I knew what a flush valve was, and by my earlier success with the U-bend, I thought maybe I could do the work myself. I pulled out the diagramed instructions, read a few words like “gasket”, and promptly did what any modern woman would –- reached for the phone to call my Daddy. Faced with the invasion of his handyman territory, J finally sprung into action. I was awakened one weekend morning by alarming clanging noises, and groggily discovered J up to his elbows in parts and wrenches, clad in very tight --very manly-- yellow rubber gloves. Four tries later, complete with trial flushes (“No! It’s leaking all over the floor! Turn the water off again! Turn it off!”), we had a non-leaky toilet, with a nice firm seal on the flush valve.

We have a theory that long-established couples only undertake home improvement projects so that they will have something to talk about. Our little weekend project sort of proved this theory, and spawned this delightful little bit of marital dialogue:

J: So I get crap when I don’t do the job, and I get crap when I do the job?
M: No, you get crap when you don’t do the job, and crap when you don’t do the job properly.

This in response to my pointing out the fact that he hadn’t properly prepped the work area, and so it seemed clear that he would soon be getting toilet water all over my eau de toilettes.

Anyway, my husband is clearly a very manly man who can fix a toilet.
Nevermind that I’m the one who figures out which button to press to bring back the video on a “broken” television.