Dare I go here? Yes, I am going to make some true confessions on the topic of traditional gender roles.
Yesterday I called a neighbor I don’t know very well to climb a ladder to reach my 12-foot living room ceiling and put my smoke alarm out of its misery. Chirp, chirp, chirp and then a voice, “low battery.” The first time I heard this was at 5 a.m. and it startled me because I thought someone was in my apartment.
Today the light bulb, the last functioning one, went out in my kitchen ceiling fixture. And, oh, I blew a fuse running my air conditioner (I did manage to fix this one).
Listen, I am as independent as they come, to a fault actually. (Just ask my dear old dad.) I really, really, really would love to be able to turn to my fabulous fella in times like these (not to mention bug issues, electronic equipment hook-ups, etc.). There was a time when I wouldn’t admit it, but now?
Bring on the testosterone and all its perks. I’ll be happy to bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan in return.