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DIY (Do-it yourself)

January 31, 2010

All moves require a person to look deep into their DIY abilities, although some more than others. Principe and I are those type who need to look quite deep. Principe more than me, although he is much better than he was when I first met him. I’m pretty sure his words eight years ago when he saw an electric drill were, “What is that?”

I should give him more credit than that, but really, European guys who grow up in the city don’t really have much opportunity to learn DIY. They don’t have garages that their father’s have converted into shops much to the mother’s dismay and they don’t move very often. Principe moved countries twice as a kid but always left his home in Spain intact to arrive to an apartment that was already furnished, so their was very little DIY needed.

So he is learning. We have moved three times now in the last 3 years and each time has required him to learn a little more. This time is is funiture assembly and small appliances. Today he is setting up the washing machine. Ouch.

I, at first, stood in the utility room in order for my aurora to give moral support, but I have since left. Principe showed both remorse and relief, but instead of getting frustrated and in a bad mood I decided to write. Why would I be in a bad mood? Because things aren’t going so well. We hooked everything up but when we turned on the water we saw that the connection between the tube and the main had a leak. There was quite a bit of swearing on Principe’s part, which always put me in a frustrated mood, so I left. I told him to figure it out without me since all I was doing was standing in the way and I left. He just yelled that he thinks he can fix it if he takes off a certain plastic part. I said go ahead. I like how he basically asks my permission to do this kind of thing. It isn’t because I’m controlling and he knows to ask before doing, it is actually because he wants to be able to share in the blame if something goes wrong.

There was just a lot of swearing going one. I’m closing my eyes as I type. “Lo he cagado” (Literally this means I pooped on it, but translated it means I messed it up) he just yelled. To which I calmly and sweetly said, don’t worry about it. No, no, he replies, I broke the tube. We have to buy a new one.

So much for doing laundry today. And the mountain is piling up.

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