DIY--Here We Go Again

Over the course of our married life, we have had more laughs than I really thought possible--and many of them have been at ourselves.

So it was today.

Saturday--the day when people with Monday through Friday jobs catch up on all things domestic. We've recently rejoined this group, most days I'm at Gracen's school doing assistant type things. I'm glad to be there, I enjoy being around the kids, and I'm thankful for the enormous amounts of grace being shown as I try to kick start my brain after 12 years out of the work force. Fortunately, it's a very relaxed atmosphere!

About a week or so ago, my sweet husband replaced the faucet in the kitchen. We discovered that it needed replacing by cleaning out the kitchen cabinets for a garage sale that the school is having in a few weeks. Jeff was cleaning out while I was making various types of bread dough to restock the freezer--and then those words, "Um, honey, hand me a towel--the cabinets are damp!"

So, the dampness lead to investigation which revealed a leaky faucet in need of replacement. Jeff goes (in the monsoon type rain, I might add) to get the faucet and proceeds to replace it. Several hours later, a very soaked husband emerged from the depths to announce that it was done.

When the leak was discovered, Jeff uttered the kiss of death, "This won't take long to replace." That lead to the words we say often around our home, "Famous last words..."

You see, God in His sovereignty lead us to a 40 year old house 7 years ago. We love our house and we love our neighborhood. But, a house of that age (like most 40+ humans I know) needs a little TLC from time to time.

And that's fine if the owners have unlimited monetary resources or grand fix-it abilities. Jeff and I have neither. (If we were of the name it and claim it religious persuasion, we'd be run out for lack of faith.)

Let me backtrack just a bit. During the monsoon type rain, during the marathon faucet replacement, I happened to notice that there was water dripping in the fireplace. Being the good wife that I am, I waited until my sweet husband emerged, drenched from the depths of the cabinet, to point to the dripping fireplace--I smiled as pointed, hoping for some sort of calming effect. He looked, said a word that I won't repeat here (as it is family friendly :) ), and went to the shower.

On this fine Saturday morning, he announced after breakfast that he was going to get on the roof and replace the chimney cap or flue or whatever. He had done enough research online to teach a small course on chimney repair. See, we aren't fixers--we're geeks!

He donned his stained, paint splattered work hat, his Marvin Martian T-shirt and set out to climb on the roof. He had one ladder with which to climb onto the roof and then a step stool type ladder with which to see the top of the chimney--and he was going to try to do all of this by himself.

I stayed inside, laughed at the thought of it all, and, in a practical moment, hoped the life insurance was paid up.

A few minutes later, Jeff came back in and reported that he felt it more prudent to let a professional handle this. I didn't ask what prompted the surge of common sense but was immensely thankful.

Now it is Saturday afternoon and we are doing what all good Southerners are doing on a Saturday in the fall. The football games are on and we are contemplating painting the hall.

Famous last words....