The Handyman

When I bought the house, my wonderful realtor gave me a gift—a handyman’s services for a few hours to help me do the harder fix-ups and tasks around the house. I worked it out with her to send the guy, a Vietnamese man named Ken, to my home on Saturday morning. When at 9:30 on Saturday morning the doorbell rang, I was surprised to find a younger Iranian man at the door. He was a nice and confident man and after initial pleasantries and offering him coffee, I asked him to replace the light fixture in the bathroom, fix the squeaking shower door, put a window screen back, fix the laundry room door, and help me hang two heavy paintings on the wall. All this time, I was busy doing chores myself, listening to music, sometimes singing along. When the gentleman finished the jobs downstairs and came upstairs, I asked him briefly whether Iranian music depressed him, as it does many Iranians for reasons I don’t understand. He said no, so all the time he was working upstairs, I picked and played music for us, all the while, in ways those close to me know I do, explaining the different pieces of music, asking him what he thought. I asked him where in Iran he was from and when he said Mashad, I played pieces of happy Khorasan music for him. He did a lot of work and I was so happy for his capable assistance. As he was about to leave, I was shocked to learn that he was actually a successful engineer and my realtor’s brother-in-law! She had honored her appointment with me and had asked her brother-in-law to keep the unavailable Ken’s appointment! I am so embarrassed I haven’t been able to bring myself to call her and thank her! What do you suppose the engineer handyman told my realtor about me? Yikes! And while on that sentiment....... My older sister said that at a dinner party, one of her old friends asked her if she was related to this “blogger woman in Berkeley,” whose blog he and his wife visit frequently and would like to meet someday. At the thought of embarrassing my own respectable sister….More Yikes!