Years ago - I mean years, back when cars were square - I went to two weeks of a car maintenance course.
I was 21 and full of feminism. I would change my own brake pads! I would know where my oil filter was!
After the second week I came home with a new strategy. I would just earn enough to pay someone to do it for me. Empowerment was one thing. Fiddling about underneath a big old greasy thing that I didn't understand was completely another.
I am in the Kitchen Zone this week, and after some thought I have realised that however clean my kitchen plinths are it is not going to detract from the effect of having big half-finished tubs of grout on the floor. Mr Coffee is so busy at work at the moment - perhaps I should finish the kitchen tiling.
But I've tiled before. It's not like I have anything to prove.
So this morning I got myself the phone number of A Man Who Does. And I hope - lord I do hope - that he will.