Ode to the Handyman


As I will be turning forty in a few months and death cannot be too far behind I have a renewed interest in religion and what it offers. So I spent the past several days researching various religions trying to decide which offered the best life after death policy. While I was temporarily leaning towards the Seventh Day Adventist faith due to Friday being their Sabbath and thus those practicing this religion are unable to work on Fridays ( shouldnít they be called Four day Adventists?), I quickly remembered I was seeking to make the most out of the next life as this one is beyond repair.


Iíve narrowed it down to any religion that preaches reincarnation. Iím not picky; I just want one that will allow me to come back as a handyman. A humble choice, perhaps, but frankly Iíve grown quite tired of my incompetence around the house, the workplace, the automobile, the farm, the playground, basically anywhere something breaks and needs rebuilding.


My usual approach to a handyman situation is to ignore the problem and hope it goes away, and then make a feeble attempt to cover it up. This worked well before I got married but Laura balked when I tried to hide a small hole in the wall with a poster of Farrah Faucet.


As a married man I have tried diligently to do handyman things. In fact, I started spackling a wall in August. After fifty gallons of joint compound the room is quite smaller now and I plan to begin sanding in April. Interestingly, Iíve been invited to the spackle salesmanís wedding.


The thought of living my next life as a handyman is very exciting. I am giddy with anticipation as I will finally know what a joist is; I will learn how to hang a picture without putting several unnecessary holes in the wall. I look forward to telling people ďI need to get a look at the crawl spaceĒ and actually go into that dark, scary place without crying for my mother. I will be able to cut into a room while I paint, whatever that means. And oh, when that toilet gets clogged because one of my children flushed an entire Fischer Price family down it, I will know how to fix it without putting on a space suit and flooding my entire first floor.


So, as I count the years to the end of this life I am optimistic that I will be more useful in the next. Now I must go buy a wedding present and if I knew what you call that thing you use to spread spackle I would be all set. Oh well, Iíll learn in time