When Bill was deployed to Kosovo in 2003, we lived in a wholly civilian neighborhood. Most people I knew did not know one single other person in the military - not a cousin or a nephew or even a brother of a friend.
When things went wrong with the house or household appliances, I first tried calling friends to see if they wouldn't mind loaning their husbands to come and take care of this or that. These were really good friends who helped me tremendously while Bill was gone and who would have gladly sawed off their husband's left arm if it would have alleviated some of my suffering. But in response to my request to fix a storm door, they ALL said, "He's just not handy like that." I couldn't believe they accepted that excuse.
Bill is not afraid of inanimate objects.
So when I pushed the button to start the dryer this morning and it made a horrible sound and emitted a burning smell, I fled to my brave knight and petitioned his assistance. He put down his freshly poured bowl of cereal and came to see what was the matter. I demonstrated the dryer's bad behavior, and he (God bless him) immediately, although a bit grumpily, motioned to begin battle. Soothed by his confident and calm demeanor, I bade him finish his breakfast first.
After eating and changing out of his pajamas, he took apart the machine to discover that a pencil had gotten sucked in - probably through the lint trap - and had jammed the belt. Can you imagine the jubilant cheers that arose upon news of his triumphant victory? Had I had fresh flowers, I'd have thrown them at his feet or possibly woven them into a crown. The bleak threat of hauling loads of wet clothes to a laundromat to dry was dissipated in a moment and there was joy in all the land.
At least in my neck of it!