Calling Rent-a-Husband

Yesterday, it occurred to me that this whole "being single works for me" stance may be a little overrated. Most of the time I got no complaints. Yesterday, I had a complaint. You see, if I was living with my (imaginary) husband, my day would have gone differently. This is what would have happened if I was married:

Me: Honey, there are ceiling lightbulbs that are burned out in every room. They need to be replaced.

Imaginary Hubby: Yes, Dear. I'll get on it right away.

-10 minutes later-

Imaginary Hubby: Babe, all done!

Me: Thanks, Sweetie. You're the best!

Instead, this is what happened, in real life.

Me (on the telephone to handyman): Hi, Charlie. It's Eleanore. I'm wondering if you can come over to change some lightbulbs in my ceiling?

Charlie: Sure

Me: Great. Can you come tomorrow?

Charlie: Can't do it tomorrow.

Me: Wednesday ?

Charlie: No.

Me: Thursday?

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