I can't do much of anything.
I tore off the bottom part of a railing that goes down our back steps. I tried to fix it with masking tape. It didn't work. Bern fixed it with a screw, I think.
I can't clean the house up to Bern's standards, so she does.
I can't do yard work up to Bern's standards, so she does it all.
I can take out the trash and recycling and do washing.
Nothing much more.
I feel guilty of my incompetence, though I shouldn't. Bern's standards are just higher than mine.
She is just so much more adroit than I am, it embarrasses me.
She even walks the dog better than I do.
I should look at it this way--I'm lucky to be married to her.
And lucky to do as little as I do.
I can preach and do communion and baptize and marry and bury--and she can't.
At least, at that I'm better.
But I love her so.
For 50 years she's been making my life easy.
What a blessing.