Time for a new plan.

Nick and I fight about three things: housework, sleep, and my Time magazine. I have had a subscription to Time for as long as I can remember. I read it from cover to cover every week, except for the Man of the Year issue. That one gets pitched immediately. Many years ago, I'd read the entire magazine the day I received it. After I married Nick, I handed it to him once I was finished. Once Jacob came along, I couldn't read the magazine that quickly. It takes me all week to get through it now, in 5 or 10 minute bits. And therein lies the problem.

Nick somehow manages to carve out entire hours of his days to read magazines. Once he makes it through his two subscriptions, he starts eying my Time like a vulture eyes carrion. As soon as I leave it defenseless, he swoops in. Then he takes it off to some secret hidey hole. Well, perhaps not so secret. He generally takes it into the bathroom, out onto the back stoop, or to a truly secret location. Later in the evening, I sit down with my tea and a cookie to and discover that my reading material is not where I left it.

I really don't mind sharing my magazine. What I mind is Nick's complete lack of understanding that it is my magazine. He can read it, but he needs to put it back where he found it. This is a tricky concept - this idea that things belong in certain spaces. If he wants to drop his own magazines all over the house, then that's his business. But I expect my magazine to be returned to me. And so the fight begins again.

In the past, I have threatened to buy Nick his own subscription to Time. It's an empty threat and I know it. Not only am I too cheap to shell out the cash for two subscriptions, I know that Nick will lose his own copy and steal mine anyway. On Monday, purple with rage after a 15 minute hunt, I wrote "PUT ME BACK! I DO NOT BELONG TO YOU!" in black marker all over the front and back of the magazine. Then last night, I saw it on the back of the toilet, which is most assuredly not where it belongs.

I think I'm going to start hiding it. I have the perfect location - near my chair but out of sight. Nick will be a little less informed of the world's affairs, but we'll be fighting about one less thing. It's really for the good of our marriage.

I love him.

   i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like,, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big Love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you quite so new

That's by ee cummings and it is one of my favorite poems. I have trouble sometimes talking about the good of my husband. It is so much easier to vent about the stolen Time magazine, the video game habit, all those things that chip away at a marriage. Verbalizing the good is more difficult - it takes poetry. Prose dries out the love and turns it to something less. I am no poet. After a few rough months, Nick and I are good again. I remember that I like the hows of him, both in body and mind. I am rediscovering how it feels to be One in a marriage - muscles better, nerves more, me more, him more. It's a miraculous thing, to be so loved by a person that you can be completely yourself without guard or protection. It's a miraculous thing to so love another person that he needs no guard or protection. So there it is. I do not know exactly why I love Nick, but I do. I could list all the wonderful things about him, but those things are not why I love him. I just like the thrill of him (not quite) so new.

The faucet almost works.

Nick arrived home with tools. New tools that he had purchased specifically for this project and perhaps more projects to come. He had read DIY sites, watched DIY videos, and was up to the job. 5:25 - Nick clad himself in stretchy clothes for the job. 5:30 - He unwrapped the purchases and took inventory. We both admired the basin wrench. 5:40 - He started removal of the old faucet. 5:55 - I ran upstairs to get The Book because the removal was not going smoothly. The Book said, "Removal is often the toughest part of a job." but it offered no hints or help with the removal. By this point, Nick had removed the faucet, the handles, the escutcheons, and a lot of nuts. Yet somehow, the pipe structure stayed in place. Plumbing has mysterious powers. 6:05 - Dinner break! 6:30 - Back to it. This time, Jake held the flashlight. Holding a flashlight is always helpful. 7:10 - I was dispatched upstairs to look for help on the internet. 7:12 - I hear a loud, ringing, repetitive thump. I investigate and discover that half of the plumbing structure is free. I hold it in place so Nick can bang on it some more. Then I see the washer! One little C shaped washer is all that stands between us and a new fixture. 7:15 - We open the plumbers putty and stare at it, wondering where and how to apply it. Nick decides to smear it on some black plastic piece. The new fixture gets bolted in. Crooked. Nick unbolts it and reattaches it. 7:50 - The water thingys don't reach the new faucet. Nick heads out to buy some more. 8:05 - I attempt with my weenie little arms to remove the old water thingys. 8:06 - I give up. 8:40 - Nick's back. He gets the old water thingys off, nearly shearing off the hot water shut off valve turny thing in the process. The hot water shut off valve turny thing is surprisingly flimsy. I suppress the urge to laugh hysterically. Everything gets connected, we turn on the water, we turn on the faucet and everything works. Hurrah! 9:00 - "Aren't we supposed to run it without the aerator?" I removed the aerator and the hot water tap stops working. 9:15 - We discover that the new water thingys have a flood protection device that sometimes kicks in when the aerator is removed. We need to remove the hot water thingy and reseat it. We decide to clean up and do that tomorrow. So, as of tonight, I will have a fully functioning faucet. I've discovered that our marriage works better when I make demands instead of suggestions. Nick's discovered that he's smart enough to figure out basic plumbing. And next time we replace a faucet, I suspect it will take us closer to the one hour project duration that seems to be the norm. We might not be efficient, but we do get the job done.

I did not marry my father.

The bathroom faucet really really broke last night. For the past couple of years (yes, I said years), it has been broken but usable. The cold water handle fell off. You could use the faucet by putting on the handle and turning it. As soon as you let go, the handle would fall off again. Nick tried to fix it a couple of times by gluing it back on, but the glue never cured or it was the wrong glue or he glued the wrong part or something. The point is that the freaking handle would not stay on the freaking faucet and I have been dealing with this for years. And as of 5:37 last night, I can no longer deal with even that. I put the handle on and turn. It spun around 360 degrees with nary a drop. I can only assume that we've finally worn off the threading. When we bought the house, Nick promised me that I would never have to deal with home repairs. I believed him, fool that I am. As a result, I am living in a house that is gradually falling into a state of disrepair. If I were renting, I would likely draft some nasty letters to my landlord. Unfortunately, I am not renting. There is no one to write, no one to whom I can direct my myriad complaints about the handyman. I have refused to address any of the problems myself because it is not my house. It's Nick's house and he promised me that I would never have to lift a wrench or call a plumber. The state of affairs has reached critical mass. Something has to give. And this time, it is going to be me. Sometime earlier this morning, I realized that I didn't marry my father. I deliberately chose a man who is very different than my father. Dad's a good man and I love him. But I cannot live with him. So, I chose someone who I thought I could live with. And really, it's not fair for me to be angry with Nick because he's not as handy as my dad. So this time, my promise to Nick wins. I promised to be with Nick as he is and not as I want him to be. And like it or not, that means I'm a homeowner who needs to make her own repairs. I called and left a message for him at work. I am going to ask that he borrow tools from a friend who has done plumbing work. Then he and I are going to fix that faucet tonight together if it takes all night long. Then we're going to make a list of everything else that does not work and we're going to fix that too. I might not have married my father, but he didn't marry his mother either. It is time for me to stop passively waiting. It is time for me to make things happen.