The Cobbler's Children Have No Shoes, and the Handyman's Wife Sleeps in a Drafty House

Hick is such a handyman! He's renovated Hick House where HOS (Hick's Oldest Son) now lives. He's renovated Pony House, where The Pony now lives. He's worked  six months at updating Back-Creek Neighbor Bev's new old house in the middle-er of nowhere. Lined Shackytown Boulevard with themed sheds. Is preparing to start renovations on the Double Hovel houses. Anybody with a structure would be hard-pressed to find a more qualified self-taught carpenter than Hick.

Hick leaves our hillbilly mansion every morning between 6:15 and 7:00. Sometimes to work on Bev's house, sometimes to get to his Storage Unit sales. He always leaves by the kitchen door. Most days, he locks it behind him. I'm usually getting ready to go to bed at that time, for my four or five hours of sleep. I'm sure Hick wants to keep me safe from any roving marauders. At least he wants to keep his treasures safe from them.

Sunday morning, and by that I mean 11:45, the time I arose to bake some brownies to take The Pony when I stopped by later in the afternoon... the kitchen felt a little cool. I'm always cold. Our thermostat is set on 70 degrees to temper the high cost of heat in our all-electric house. So I didn't think too much of it. I'm always cold when I get up, and sit at HIPPIE within the three-windowed alcove where the kitchen table resides.

I mixed the brownies and slid the glass pan into the oven. Went to sit at the table. The floor seemed extra-cold. It's linoleum. I could feel the heat leaving my soles through my socks. I glanced at the kitchen door to see if Hick had turned the lock button in the middle of the doorknob, and saw

LIGHT AROUND THE KITCHEN DOOR!

Light! Sunlight! Flowing straight in, along with 30-degree air! [Technically, from a physics teacher standpoint, that draft was heat LEAVING the kitchen out that crack. Heat always flows from an area of higher concentration to an area of lower concentration. Those faster-moving molecules were shooting out the door, leaving those behind to spread farther apart, slowing down and losing energy. No charge for the lesson.]

Hick had not closed the kitchen door! He had perhaps given it a push. But the frame swells sometimes, and you have to give it a stern push to make sure it's closed. And sometimes, you have to give it a stern push to open it to get out, lest you slam your face into it trying to take a stride too quickly.

The previous day, Hick had done almost the same thing. He had pushed the door enough that light and air were not flowing in, but it was NOT closed all the way. Not latched, even though it was locked.

When we settled in for This Is the Time of Day We Discuss the Most Recent Thing You've Done Wrong, Hick heard my complaint. And replied,

"Huh. I might of. I remember giving it a push to close it. Sometimes I come back and make sure it's closed. I guess I forgot."

I guess I need to hire a handyman and his old man helper to come fix my kitchen door, at the rate of $40 per hour.