I need a man in my life.

Not that kind of man, though that might be nice. What I need is someone to do some of the heavy lifting at Seven Hills Farm West.

Now you might think that a ‘gentleman friend’ might be useful. You would be wrong.

The last time I was in a serious relationship and needed a little help changing a screen. Seriously, just a screen. My ‘man’ didn’t miss a beat, “You need to hire a man for that.”  Coupled with the fact that he was jealous of my dog, he was gone not long after.

This is what I really need: a full-time, mind-reading, incredibly useful handyman. Preferably one who comes with his own tools. Who would go away before he annoyed me.  And looks like Idris Elba.

That shouldn’t be hard to find, right?

Obviously there is no one in the world like this, so like a lonely child who creates a non-existent friend, I invented my handyman. (It could be a woman, but since this is my fantasy, I want eye-candy.)  I call this person my invisible, but hot, mindreading handy man – IMRHM.

I used to think of myself as pretty self-sufficient.  I am. Most of the time. But sometimes, you need a little help.

I realized this the other day when I was on the top of a six foot ladder trying to replace a fan in the horse stall. This sounds like a dumb idea, and it is, but the old fan was broken and it was going top 100 degrees that day. My horses (and everyone else) were melting.

So there I was, the only human around, standing on top of an old, wobbly ladder literally hanging on to the roof beams while tying the fan up with one hand. My loud cursing attracted my two aging equine retirees.

They gathered around the ladder to observe and critique my work, and poke the ladder. Had I fallen, perhaps they would have raced underneath me to have soften the fall. Or they would have stomped on me in fright and disgust. Probably the latter.

I didn’t fall, so there is that.

But while on the ladder, I glanced out at their paddock from above. The pipe fence is listing dangerously.  This is their fault. They lean on it while trying to nab an elusive sprig of grass. The hot wire that is supposed to prevent that from happening (and in general does) is loose so they can work around it. I can’t fix it by myself without getting regular shocks. So I haven’t.

This is a perfect job for my IMRHM.

One morning I’d stumble out at 6am in my pajamas to out to feed the beasts and I’d notice POOF! The fence line is straight and secure, with the wire tight and clicking. He’d fixed it overnight. Without me even asking!

Sigh.

The horses themselves are in pretty good shape. At 20+ Lucy has Cushing disease, which has impacted her once trim figure, but she is still glossy and alert. Talen also looks fantastic, as long as he keeps to a walk. Watching him trot is painful. Still, they are happy.

I’d be happier is when I pat them, huge puffs of dirt didn’t rise off them and choke me. I wash their faces every night when I remove their fly masks. But in my dream, IMHM would chase the almost-feral Talen down and bathe and groom him completely. I’d never have to wash Lucy’s butt again, because IMHM would have already done it.

Working with the horses is actually fun, so maybe I’d keep doing that. But IMRHM would definitely have to handle the rest of the property.

The back yard that is not paddock is relatively small and mostly covered with wood chips; a lawn would cost a fortune to water, and the hay/shavings trucks would destroy it. Still, the chips are a little thin, and aren’t keeping the dust down the way they should.

I need to contact someone to bring in another truckload and spread them before winter rains. That sounds like fun during the summer right?  When it’s 103 degrees in the shade?

My handy man wouldn’t care. The chips would be delivered and perfectly spread. The bonus is that whole yard would smell like pine trees. Ahhhh.

In the front, the driveway would magically be replaced. Instead of a deathtrap mix of cracked, uneven and missing concrete and blacktop, there would be even, flat DG. The tiny grass area would have more grass than dirt. The track around the yard created by three Great Danes, a Brittany and their various playdates would be erased.

Naturally, this would all be free. That’s the whole point of the IMRHM.

While writing this, I heard a crash. I walked out of my office next the paddock. Lucy was banging on the fence, because apparently it was a few minutes past her dinner hour.

Reality infringes again.

The fence leans, grass grows only where it’s not supposed to and someday I will fall and break a hip on the driveway.  Still, I’m pretty lucky to live here.

However, if you find a living breathing candidate for the position of IMHM, please send him my way.