There is No Place Like Home

I could only avoid the inevitable for so long. Things around the house were breaking, and appliances were going kaput on me right after their warranties expired. The myriad of malfunctions got going with car repairs and the obnoxious "check engine light," which illuminated on the dashboard, informing me, "this is going to cost you, buddy." This was followed by a doctor calling to tell me I needed a colonoscopy. My lower back ached, and I went on a diet where I drank green sludge made in a blender. My body pleaded with me, "can you lay off the donuts?" You see... life is an endless rerun of repairs and maintenance and guarantees that have deceased.

Now I sat and pondered my next move before I fell asleep in the recliner. I woke up, and the nightmare was a harsh reality, so I walked out into the garage to notice my toolbox had a cobweb connected to it and stretched to the ceiling. When the spiders found more use for my tools, the time had come. I would start first thing tomorrow morning. I used this line many times with the missus, but this time I meant business.

If I needed to fix everything, I wanted to do it as fast as possible, so I would be able to do more essential things like binge on Netflix for hours on end. I would repair every squeaky door, wiggly handle, burnt-out light bulb, a dripping faucet, loose board, nut, and screw, and for chrissakes, those mysterious pools of water the show up on the kitchen floor.

Hiring a handyman was an option since my wife chomped at the bit to hire such a human being. She even showed me an advertisement by some guy named "Mr. Honey-Do." I became upset that this Mr. Honey-Do went right for the juggler of us "master of our domain" types." If I didn't get on the ball with these repairs, Mr. Honey-Do would be in my home fixing my running toilet and wobbly doorknobs. I imagined him now lecturing me on how to fix this stuff while I stood listening enthralled about rubber gaskets. It wasn't going to happen on my watch. Mr. Honey-Do would need to find another home to rescue and a wife to cozy up to. I knew if I relented once, he would be over my house all the time. He would be on a first-name basis, no more Mr. Honey-Do but his real name, Stanley.

I started my mission. The repair list looked daunting, but I was going to tackle this strategically. I developed a flow chart, material requisition breakdown, and a progress report. I thought this would impress my wife with my attention to detail and understanding of the process. In addition, I set up a separate bank account for the funds I would be managing for the plan. It was now an official project that I had a complete grasp on.

I eventually got through most of the repairs, not all of them, because I think you have to leave a little behind to keep you honest. If I were to fix everything, then put away the tools in some cabinet and throw away all of my record keeping, I would be surely doomed. Doomed by Murphy's Law, "everything that can go wrong will go wrong." Never has this been truer when applied to owning a home.

The way I view it is; life is solving problems, therefore pick good issues and avoiding ones makes matters worse. Mr. Honey-Do never made his way into our house, but I always find his business card in the junk drawer. Someday I might need him, but for now, I'm the real Mr. Honey-Do, but I go by Mr. Fix-it.