Greetings from the Florida Keys.

This is my sixth day cleaning up after Hurricane Irma whacked our home in Islamorada, which is one of the Middle Keys. This is not a plea for pity. I understand that this is my second home and one should be so fortunate to have such problems, but nonetheless it is a little breathtaking when you pull up to a place you love and it looks, well, like a hurricane hit it.

Compared to those around us, we were lucky. Homes were smashed, some no longer exist and for people whose livelihoods depend on tourists (who won’t exactly be flocking back to a tropical paradise that no longer has lovely swaying palm trees), well, it just plain sucks. (Can I say that in this paper?) Regardless, my husband, Carey, and I have worked hard over the past few days cleaning up the wreckage. I have the cuts and bruises to show for it, along with a bit of a problem.

You see, I have spent years convincing Carey I don’t know how to do certain things, like those that might make me sweat, involve a power tool or require me to be outside. To be clear, I am not helpless. No one, including Carey, has ever accused me of that. Let’s just say, as I’ve aged, I’ve become more selective in choosing which skill sets I want to access. As a result, people (particularly my husband) sometimes forget my abilities, which I use to my benefit. Shovel snow? Really not sure how that works. Mow the lawn? Which gas can do I use to fill the mower? Paint? Brush or roller? Too confusing! I like to think I am focusing on my strengths instead of my weaknesses.

So, as we pulled up to our damaged house that first day, I had a decision to make. Would I be able to access those long dormant skills? Could I let Carey, who is a contractor, tell me what to do as we tried to dig our home out of the large number of fallen trees and branches? And if so, would I be able to do it without being snarky or running my usual commentary?

Now, I am not a religious person, but I do believe that at the moment I was debating this, my parents came down from heaven. Both were needed because I required lots of guidance. Next thing you knew, I no longer had the ability to swear or second-guess. Things I hadn’t done in 30 years came back easily. Use a chainsaw to cut up a tree? Sure, no problem. Lug that tree to the side of the road? Well, why wouldn’t I? I shut up and worked. Well, except for one time.

Carey asked me to please rake up some leaves and sticks. My response: “I don’t rake.” I think that’s a straight-forward response. Raking annoys me. I hate the sound the metal makes against the driveway and when leaves get stuck and you have to pick them off individually. I caught myself though and quickly changed my response to: “OK, but remember, once we’re back in St. Louis, I don’t know how to do any of this stuff, so don’t ask.” And, well, neither should any of you.

Contact Patty at phannum@townandstyle.com.