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Paul’s ‘Morgan Manor,’ or ‘Morgan Mansion,’ or, my fav, ‘Morgan Motor Court’ is near completion. As the crew (actually our contractor pal, Danny and his buddy—and no, you can’t have their number, find yer own durn contractor) slap on the roof to house Paul’s recently acquired vintage roadster, Paul is gallantly trying to stay out of their way.

Which is a very hard thing for him to do.

He’s become quite the handyman from his early, enthusiastic days of woodworking when, regardless of what project he chose to build, ended up being too large to not only fit in the house but even get out of his shop. Gone are the days of the linen closet which was larger than a VW van and had to be taken apart only to be reassembled inside our mudroom. Welcome is the more modified attempt that slid easily into the bathroom. Paul now has the impressive ability to not only rebuild a deck (no, you can’t have his number either—find yer own durn husband), but build the multiple outbuildings here at the farm: tractor sheds (two), small two-horse stable, plus several sections of fence, although I argue that the posts need to be secured in concrete.

He was looking terribly forward to actually helping Danny and Brian to add to his carpentry skills. However, when two people have worked together as long as Danny and Brian have, they run like a well-oiled machine and pretty much know the other person’s thoughts before speaking. So when Paul stepped onto the concrete pad that had been poured and looked admiringly around the framework being erected, he immediately realized the monosyllabic replies to his queries had an unspoken subtext.

“Wow, this looks really good.”

“Yep.”

“You already have the dimensions for the windows?”

“Yep.”

Pause.

“Want me to go get more lumber?”

“Yep.”

Sheepishly, Paul took the truck and went to the lumber yard because no matter how big or small any project, it’s an unspoken law that more lumber will always be needed. Danny and Brian will be finished in a couple of days (yeah, maybe then I’ll give you their number; what’s it worth to ya?) and then Paul, in all his glory, gets to man-cave it. The siding now attached, he will have it match the house with board and batten, as well as do all the finishing work inside. He will be able to nerd out and indulge in placing every auto accessory and tool in its.exact.spot. He will install shelving, lighting, and climate control for his newly repainted dream car, due to be returned in a matter of days. It will be tenderly tucked in beneath its custom cover and rodent-proof interiors (don’t ask me, I’ve no idea) will guarantee no mice nibbling the engine’s wiring.

He is a man in love. He is also the only man I have ever known who organized his spice rack alphabetically.

Enjoy the ride, Paul.