Wednesday, August 3, 2011

on taking care of a home and its slow triumphs

I guess I've always been curious about how things work. As a kid I would follow my dad and uncles around while they did home repairs. I'd pester them with questions and (lacking google) cross-check their information with other relatives. Instead of admiring a rose bush I'd ask about propagation and why we didn't cover our roses in winter.

Now I have a lot of knowledge without application and an overwhelming lack the confidence.

For example, my toilet was running on and off since I moved in. I guessed it was a busted flapper. Google agreed with me. I kept listening to it for almost two months until my uncle came over and said yep. So I went to Depot, bought the thing and it was fixed within five minutes.

I also bought along that round mirror from the old place. It sat on the floor for two months, while I cleaned around it and tried my hardest to keep it in one piece. It weighs about twenty pounds, the back has two teeny holes (not loops or mirror hanging hardware) where nails have to be lined up and its round. I finally bought an electric screwdriver and wrestled with the thing through an entire episode of Glee until it was on the wall. There was sweat, frustration, fear that I would hurt myself because my equilibrium has been awful and mostly a dogged need to get This Thing Done.

So while I keep saying I need to be more patient, what I really need to do is buy the right tools (because everything I borrow from my brother is professional grade and too heavy for me) and accept my learning curve. I am not strong, there is only one of me and my home only needs to please me. So why am I letting it cause stress instead of accepting it?

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