Moo.

My man is a contractor and he works hard at least six days a week – if not seven. And if he’s not at a job site on Sundays, he’s doing some sort of work on our house. He’s a busy boy.

For my mom’s birthday in February, I gave her a coupon for one free day of slave labor stripping the wallpaper in her living room. A few weeks later, my dad started talking about hiring someone to come look at the slight water damage in the kitchen ceiling, re-patch some places he thought he didn’t patch well, and give the whole ceiling a fresh coat of paint.

That would be a two-story high ceiling that extends through three biggish rooms, by the way.

“I’ll have Dan come look at it,” I said. “He can fix it while I’m doing the wallpaper.”

“Oh, he doesn’t need to do that on his day off, he does that stuff all week.”

“I’m sure he won’t mind. You don’t have to go hire someone else and pay for it,” I insist, and I’m right.

Of course my man can take care of it. He swore he didn’t mind helping my folks out, even on a day off. I thanked him profusely, telling him my mom and dad would really appreciate it.

“It’s no problem,” he said. “I don’t have a cow to give them for you, so I’ll help out instead.”

Well, he used to say he’d give my dad a goat in exchange for my hand in marriage, so I suppose this is an upgrade of sorts.

Moo.