Secret Tools For Women Only

Johnny K works from home some days, and he did yesterday. He is very busy, has phone meeting after phone meeting on the speaker phone in his office. He types emails and instant messages while he talks. He really does wonderful work, he is a brilliant man. Meanwhile I had purchased 5 little containers of Marigold plants.

We are at the country house which he created before he met me. I was just about to plant my small plants. As he walks into the kitchen for orange juice, I ask:  

"Do you have a trowel?"
"A trowel?"
He says it out loud twice as he thinks.
"You know, one of those little pointy shovels with a tiny handle," I reply. I hold my hands out to show the size.

"I don't think so. I can get you a shovel from the shed."

Meanwhile I remember a small shovel we keep near the deck for dog business. I mention it and tell him never mind, that I can use  that one. "I did not remember that one until now," I explained.

"No, I have a better one," he said. He is a believer in the proper tool for the job and he is also always the kind of person that helps everyone all the time.
Even when he only has the teensiest tiniest few minutes to himself.

So he got his keys. He walked past the message pings coming from his office. He walked outside to the back of the house to the garden closet. He unlocked the door, shifted some tools and brought back a lovely shiny shovel just for me. A gigantic lovely shovel that you could use to plant a small tree.

I am thankful, and I express it, and I smile. And I think I must read the book, "Men Are From Mars, Women Are from Venus."

While I had waited for him to get the shovel I had remembered one of the handiest tools of all. I let him return to his office before I got it out. 

A kitchen spoon.

I went out and got the Marigolds planted.

I think there are "tool men" and "make anything into a tool women." Or maybe it is not a male/ female thing, but more generally genetic. "Tool people" and "make anything into a tool" people.

Later he sees me carrying a dining room chair into the spare bedroom.

"Why are you putting that in there?"
"I'm not. I just need to reach the shelf."

"Wait! I have a step-ladder," he says.

He probably did not even notice my smile.