As I was getting up this morning, Victor came in to kiss me goodbye. Ten minutes later, I heard him yell this exasperated FYI from downstairs: I’M STILL HERE. I looked over the rail and saw him with a pile of tools at the front door, disassembling our doorknob. I didn’t need to ask what he was doing—every few years our lock gets all farked up and we get trapped in the house. It’s a simple fix, but it’s still a huge pain in the ass.
That stoopid doorknob is just one reason I really hate this place. There are more. After almost 17 years here, there are definitely more.
- The seals on two of our double-paned windows popped, I don’t know when, and make it look like we have never cleaned them—fortunately they’re not on the front of the house. Every once in a while I run across the paperwork for the warranty and think I SHOULD CALL, but then I don’t. And then I lose the paperwork again, and the next time I find it I think I SHOULD CALL…
- One of our cabinet hinges broke. I tried to replace it at Home Depot, but it’s a fancy type that can only be purchased from a cabinet maker. Tina said she found some on eBay, but we’d have to order, like, 489 of them and that’s infuriating because I only really need one. I like to think I’m the only person who notices that there’s no door on one of our cabinets, but I know people notice; they’re just nice enough not to point it out.
- We have tile countertops, which I loved when we bought the house but quickly came to hate. A lot of our neighbors have replaced their countertops. A lot of our neighbors are smarter than we are.
- I have a sense that our dishwasher sprays water on our dishes but doesn’t actually WASH them. And it’s not so much that I sense it, but that I see the evidence—pieces of food on many of the “clean” dishes that come out of the dishwasher. Also, its motor runs at 110 decibels, which—as you probably know—is the noise equivalent of a riveting machine.
- We got a new stove a few years ago, but with the old one went the pretty edging that made it blend into the countertop. The new one sits between unfinished tile edges. It’s not pretty.
- Our refrigerator has issues too, and while it mostly does its job, I still want a new one.
- A bunch of our cellular shades are messed up. Every one of them that doesn’t work right is thanks to a pet or kid. They chew the cords, or paw at the fabric, or generally act like house-ruining jackholes.
- Don’t get me started on the carpet.
- The fan in our master bath doesn’t work and that means it’s like Florida in there after our showers every morning.
- One of our master bath sinks doesn’t work. Well, the sink works fine—that would be one busted-ass sink if it didn’t do what it was supposed to—but the faucet is broken. I don’t like sharing a sink with my toothpaste-chunk-leaving, electric-razor-emptying husband.
- Speaking of faucets, the outside water spigots drip, so we have to turn the water off with the main whatever-you-call-it in the garage. This makes otherwise quick tasks like watering the plants or washing the car a more complicated process because…
- …our garage is an obstacle course.
- We have those fancy gutter covers but they don’t work for shit. When it rains hard, a fountain forms near the garage.
- Our wood floors have some swollen spots that need repair.
- The outside of the house needs to be repainted.
- Our deck needs to be repaired in a couple spots, refinished and sealed. And ideally, pergola-d. :)
- The backyard needs to be terraced and re-landscaped, once and for all. Every few years we fix it up, but there’s just too much of a slope for it to work un-terraced. Victor does not agree with this, but he also hates landscaping work.
The real problem here is that I want a new house, but all of these things would need to be fixed before we could sell this house, and if all of these things were fixed, I wouldn’t want a new house. Well, I’d probably still want a new house but I wouldn’t hate ours as much.
And really, there are things I like about our house. It’s the only home our kids have known. It sits on a street of decent people. It’s the perfect size for our family.
You know what I think we should do? All of us who have handyman skillzzz take turns at each other’s houses and fix the things we can. Like, I rock at painting and finish work like chair rails and crown moulding, organizing other people’s stuff, and light-duty landscaping. Maybe one of my friends can fix water faucet-related problems? And someone else knows a little about woodworking and repair? We could be like Habitat for Humanity, but instead we’d be Habitat for I Don’t Want to Go to the Trouble of Moving to a Different House.
Meh. It’d probably just be easier to set fire to the place.