Handiman

Boli, my landlady, is eccentric. A squat, authoritative Indian woman, she has a blunt style of negotiation. She brushed me off as I questioned the wording in our lease, and directly told me to mow the lawn regularly. (Oops.) That's not to say she has lost her good British sensibilities. She gave me a great cup of tea while we signed the lease.
Boli uses a handyman named Henry for anything that goes wrong in the house. Henry, she told me, is dependable and she trusts his work, so call him for anything that needs attention. Within the first few days, we were calling Henry. Not that the house was dilapidated, merely that some work had been done just before we moved in, and there were a few things that needed screwdriver attention. Namely, the drain in Kate's bath wouldn't work, the shades needed to be hanged (hung?) and the garbage disposal was broken.
Henry arrived while I was at the house. My reaction was that of stunned elation. This man looked exactly like my cinematic hero, The Big Lebowski. "Dude, welcome!" I said with a rather awkward high five. They're like hugs. Both people need to be psyched, or things are going to get weird.
Henry and I went into the house, and I was so fixated on the disposal and the blinds, and the fact that The Dude was in my kitchen, that I totally forgot about the drain. Sorry Kate. It eventually got fixed, and she only had to endure one extra week of what can best be described as a "shower-bath" before Henry made a return appearance. Turns out, the previous tenant was growing plants in the tub, and there was a dirt plug keeping the water at bay. What kind of plants would you grow in a room with no windows? I'll go out on a limb here and guess weed.
So Henry fixed the disposal in about 5 seconds, and turned to leave. I asked him to wait, as there were some new window shades that needed attention. He told me that it was really easy, all you needed was a power screwdriver. Maybe someone would get me one for Christmas, I told him, because I didn't have one. There had to be something in his truck, right?
I could tell his wheels were still spinning in an attempt to make me do it.
My wheels were spinning, too, and I figured that there might need to be a sweetening of the deal.
"Want a beer?"
We were hanging the shades in seconds.
The window in quesiton is right behind the head of our bed. Instead of moving such a bulky, burdensome piece of furniture, Henry just climbed on up and started drilling, boots on the bedspread. You can't have everything, I guess, and he was doing the work. I shut my mouth, drank my beer, and held my end of the shade. We'll deal with the blanket later.