So, Do You Like ... Stuff?

I currently have something I never thought I’d have: a toolbox. For tools . Because I already had a toolbox, only it was filled with medicine, almost all of which expired in 2007. When we became foster parents, it was required that we have all our medication locked up and secured. Looking for something to do just that, my wife and I stumbled on a traditional ol’ toolbox. I said, “This will work! Plus one day maybe I can actually use it for tools HA HA HA this will be for medication.” But the joke is on me because now I have a tool -toolbox. We were in the process of going through some house junk, and I thought it would be a good idea to go through the medicine toolbox and throw out the ear drop medication my wife brought to Arizona from New Jersey seven years ago and a huge box of DayQuil that only had one DayQuil in it that was four years expired and also everything in the box. Staring at the empty toolbox, I took a deep breath and with a lump in my throat said to myself, “Now is ...

It’s been established that I don’t know how to do anything handy. We know this. That doesn’t mean, however, that I can’t do anything that falls under the umbrella of “things men are supposed to do.” For example, I can move things. Like, from here to there. I can pick it up and move it. It should probably be mentioned that even in this endeavor, I fail at the nuances of doing it well. Once while moving a desk I accidentally ripped the top off because I was holding it by the lip, an act that couldn’t support the weight of the base underneath. (As embarrassing as that is to admit, I’m quite proud of myself for even identifying that part of the desk as the lip without having to Google “what’s that part of the edge of a desk that just begs you to lift from there?” It is called the lip, right? Forget it.) I distinctly remember, years ago, helping my dad and his friends put together a shed in my parents’ backyard. Everyone’s confidence in my and my cousin John’s ability to do the techn...

One of the few manly things I used to be able to do was mow lawns. In fact, combined with my ability to cut hedges—with a hedge trimmer!—you could even say that “general landscaping” was an area of mild expertise. (One time I accidentally cut the extension cord I was using for the hedge trimmer with the hedge trimmer, nearly shutting off the power grid of our town.) Our first place of residence when we were married was in a condo development in NJ, so I was not allowed to mow the grass there and instead had to pay for that service, and was therefore unable to prove that I was a good husband. I did, however, take the trash out a few times, and one of those times it was really, really cold outside. Then we moved to Arizona and I discovered that I would not need to mow the rocks. Still, we had a plot of land of our own that included some plant life, and I was adamant that it would be my responsibility to maintain that land, like a good man would. I toiled in the fields for many a f...

My morning routine is pretty simple. The time between my alarm going off and me stepping out the door would be five minutes were it not for my daughter/dog/coffee-making obligations. I am very low-maintenance, and as a man this has become a source of pride. As noted many, many times, I do not often represent what society deems as a man—if someone got me tools for Father’s Day, for example, I would be confused and upset—so I’m happy to include low-maintenance on my man resume. In fact, my co-worker asked me recently how I do my hair in the morning, to which I proudly responded, “I don’t. I just get up and go.” Later that day I actually looked at myself in the mirror and the back of my hair was completely sticking out to one side. I looked like a little kid who had woken up after wishing he could become an adult for the day. I retroactively interpreted my co-worker’s question as a definitive statement: “You should start doing something about your hair.” My hair is normally kept prett...