Single ladies of the world, find yourself a handy man and marry him. Seriously. Those clean-cut, business suit, office-working types are nice. They’re clean and neat, they know where the good restaurants are, you can share hair products with them, but when your car stops producing heat, are they going to crawl around on the snow-covered ground in mid-February to fix it for you? I don’t think so.
My handy man fixed the heat in my car yesterday and never have I been so glad I married him. This morning my toes were toasty, I didn’t see my frosty breath on the ride to work, I can use my defroster. It was heaven. Once again, the heat is on.