And don't get me started on flat-pack furniture. I find it hard to believe we're the only couple who'd be able to cite Freedom Furniture as a respondent on any eventual petition for divorce.
The point is, though, that where my husband is different from others is that he is quite comfortable to have the personnel from Hire A Hubby in our house, fixing, counselling and otherwise making things better in a manly fashion.
The franchise itself tells tales of men avoiding their homes when their wives call in the hubbies, fearing the inevitable emasculation it portends.
Not my man. He's part of the modern, metrosexual trend that is seeing franchises like Hire A Hubby boom.
My "Hubby", who was called in for a list of urgent repairs last week, had brought with him an apprentice Hubby, such was the call on his services. He could barely fit me in. As the daughter of a man who could keep any household appliance going on rubber bands and toothpicks, I felt ashamed at getting the Hired Hubby in for such ridiculous things as affixing cupboard door handles, imagining my father's look of horror as we forked out a sizeable sum for something he could probably have done when he was 9. And yet, in our house, at this time, it is the only way anything is going to get done - by either uninterested husband or incompetent wife.
I am now waiting for someone enterprising to fire up a brand new franchise, Hire A Wife. No, not some kind of upmarket escort agency or mail-order bride service, but a bureau for (mainly) women who want to hire other women to job-share the household tasks.
Yes, you can hire a cleaner, a nanny and a cook if you want to, and can afford the price; I'm talking more about a modern version of Mrs Hughes from Downton Abbey, a firm but kindly woman with whom to share the running of the household.
I'm sure this will come to pass; as we've already seen with Hire A Hubby, every First World problem eventually finds its First World solution.
