The one benefit to living in a small, sardine like, apartment is the access I have to the maintenance guy. I love this guy (a plutonic love of course). I always see him drive around on his little cart and will wave and smile appropriately. Have a problem with the drawer in the fridge? No problem, maintenance guy is there within the hour to fix it. Light burned out in the bathroom? Yup, maintenance guy will take care of it. Every time the maintenance guy has entered our home (of course he’s always welcome), he will leave with the comment, “Wow, that’s the easiest request I’ve had all day.” Maybe that’s because I call on him to fix the garbage disposal when all I needed to do was push the reset button, in my defense it was very cleverly hidden. Or ask him to fix what appeared to be a broken drawer in the fridge when all I needed to do was pull it out and realign it. But the greatest thing that has come about because of maintenance guy (maybe one day I’ll learn his name) is the peace that is now found in our home. Of course my terribly intelligent and handiman husband could fix all these problems but it elimates this converation:
Hilary: Ty can you fix the garbage disposal (repeated ten times a day, for at least two weeks)
Ty: Yea, I’ll do it.
No excessive nagging from me, no excessive nagging for Tyler, equals peace. Thanks maintenance guy, we love you!