Only a Doyle Handyman

When we were first married, Chris and I (okay Chris, Uncle Mike, Aunt Anne and I--giving credit where credit is due) "redid" an old house.  We painted every room, stripped and rehung wall paper, and Chris refinished the hardwood floors.  Now I know most people finish something like that and are energized and proud.  Chris turned to me and said, "Never again.  If we can't afford to have someone do it, it's not going to get done."  And so every time we move we search out doctors, hair stylists, and a handyman.  Ray is our Louisville handyman.

Several weeks ago we made a list and decided it was time to call Ray.  I called and left a message; no answer.  A few days later I called again and left a message; no return call.  I called a third time and left a message.  I couldn't understand why he wasn't calling us back.  He liked us I thought.  Of course that might have something to do with the fact that we double paid him since we didn't communicate on who would write the check--perhaps we should add a finance person and mediator  or communication specialist to our list of people to find when we move.  Anyway, he didn't call back and I decided that he was either dead (he's not young) and I was harassing a grieving family or he was going to have me arrested for stalking because he wasn't going to call back.  (I clearly wasn't working on home improvement projects so I had plenty of time to let my mind create.)  I was about to go on a search for a new handyman when surprise Ray called.

He was sorry he hadn't called back sooner, but his mother had died (I knew there had to be death somewhere in there) and he was named executor but he didn't know he was executor and then they had to clean out the house...15 minutes into the call I finally was able to break into the story and say, "Can you help us out?"  "Oh yeah," he replied obviously reconnecting with the idea that I was his client not his therapist. "I'll be over sometime next week."  I didn't press him for a specific time and date, when you're not handy you work your schedule around the handyman.  Plus, I was a tad bit afraid he would give me a 20 minute detailed list of what he would be doing.  If I think someone talks alot....well you know they do.

Ray finally came over to look at the projects.  Sure I can do those he told me AFTER he retold me the story of his mother's death complete with how he and his five siblings divided up the furniture.  I know exactly who got what and what they're doing with it, why they didn't choose other pieces and the house has been sold. He also told me about the kitchen redo he did for his wife.  "Took me 8 years, but I got it done."  He said, "I'll be back sometime next week."  Again I wasn't going to press, on top of that,  I was too busy praying these projects wouldn't take 8 years....

Thursday Ray showed up.  I was working from home.  I hadn't had a day off in awhile plus it was freaking cold and I had a roaring fire.  (I burned 28 pieces of wood that day--another weirdness about me, I count the wood I burn.  I definitely keep my therapist in business.)  I was working on a sermon listening to Gregorian advent chant in the back ground.  (It was in Latin)  I was trying to concentrate and Ray was talking and talking and talking.  (I know some of ya'll are so happy and just want to say,'Paybacks are hell')  Finally there was a pause and glorious silence.  And then Ray started singing!!!!  Rather he started chanting, PERFECTLY AND IN LATIN!!  He's scrapping my ceiling and chanting Gregorian chant.  I really didn't want him to talk anymore but I had to ask, "Ray, are you chanting?"  "Oh yeah," he responded, "I was in catholic seminary for 5 1/2 years but then I decided I'd rather drop out, become a painter and get married.  Now that's a story!"  I didn't get to hear that story--he had to go outside for the gutter project...I breathed a sigh of relief.

Four hours later Ray announced, "Well I'm about finished for today.  I'll have to come back tomorrow to put another layer on the ceiling." he told me and then continued to explain how he'd learned all these trades.  37 minutes later he left.  I was beginning to think he was moving in and I'd have to introduce the children to their new Uncle Ray.  Further he charges us by the hour; I wonder if I'm getting charged for entertainment as well...

Friday Ray called to say he was on his way.  I was heading home from the gym and told him I'd meet him there.  I arrived and Ray was already in the house.  "I went ahead and let the dogs out," Ray informed me as I walked into the house.  "I can't remember where you keep the treats."  (He really might be moving in....)  We stood in the middle of the living room as he detailed what he had done after he left my (our) house yesterday.  He pulled out his phone and began to show me pictures of his grandchildren--I tried to keep it straight--we might all become family.  He put his phone away and as he continued to talk he began to undue his belt and unzip his pants.  "WHOA!" I screamed turning my back to him.  He began to laugh, "Did you think I was taking my pants off?"  That's exactly what I thought and think.  He kept laughing as he said, "I am but I have shorts on underneath.Remember I went to seminary."  Seriously a warning would have been helpful PLUS you dropped out of seminary!!!  He finished the second layer and called me back into the living room.  Ray began to explain the next step as he started to redress.  Even knowing what's going on, I have to say it's a bit unnerving to talk to a man in your living room who is pulling up his pants and tucking in his shirt.....

"I'll be back tomorrow to put another coat on," he told me,  "I'm going home now to work on one of my computers.  I had to replace the hard drive last night.  I have seven computers.  I built my first computer 2 years ago.  If you aren't here, I'll just come on in."  I remained silent.  First I was amazed--this man also builds computers?  A Gregorian chanting, story telling, handyman, computer guru. Only a Doyle handyman.  Also, while it's wrong; I know it's wrong, so very wrong,  but I silently gave thanks for the early morning board meeting followed by a funeral and two basketball games. He may meet his match, Caroline will be here...