Home is Where...Part III

We left off with my near-death experience in the attic, as I felt the fumes from the silicon caulking gradually closing up my sinuses.
OK, maybe that's a little far-fetched.
And we did wait for the rain to come.
It did...and so did water through the leak.
All else failed, so I called Phil.
He was up on the roof for about five minutes if that.
It looked like the water might have come through the Gutter Helmet, he said.
More rain fell.  Each time I shimmied up to the attic to check.
So far so good each time.
There are reasons why Handyman Phil does what he does, and why I do what I do.
I don't have ego problems.  I know when I'm licked.
But now that problem was done and over with.
That way, I could concentrate on renovating the half-bath.
Yeah I know, quit laughing.
It didn't have to be perfect, my wife insisted.  No one was going to see it other than us.
But I kind of wanted it to be PRETTY perfect.  I was thinking future resale value (not that we're planning to move), and I wanted to try and rival the performance of a pro if I could do it.
I wanted to keep it as simple as I could.
New sink, new toilet, new lights, and trim pieces.  Shouldn't be too hard.
We had to forego the medicine cabinet after we determined that we couldn't find one that was an exact replacement for our old one.
So we cleaned up the old medicine cabinet and re-used it.  
After all was said and done, everything worked, save for a slight drip in the sink drain, and all was good for hopefully, the next 20 years.
Hopefully longer.
The toilet and sink I removed had its date of manufacture cast into it.  The year...1957.
55 years of service.  That ain't bad.
Especially when the house was built in 1952.
And by the time my daughter grows up, she'll probably be making her own plans on what to do with the house if she wants to buy it.
That'll be just fine with me.
I still remember the years I spent at my paternal grandparents' home, which they had moved into in 1955.  My grandmother still lives there today, after my grandfather had passed six years ago.
It was like a second home to me.
I could go there at anytime.  Just walk in.  No appointment necessary.
Except on Mondays, when Grandma did her hair, and from 3 to 4pm weekdays, because that's when her 'story' (Guiding Light) was on TV.
Looking at it today, one can probably see things it needs.
A dishwasher.
Some kitchen cabinetry updates.
An upgrade to a dual-basin sink.
Replacing the wood paneling that's through most of the ground floor.
Painting the bedrooms.
New carpeting.
Central air.
Cable TV capability.
But I like it the way it is.
Much of my life and that of my family is wrapped up in that old house.  The same house that came with only two electrical outlets when it was first built.  Then grandpa installed several more.
"There used to be two plugs in this whole place," he'd say.  "There's more than 200 now!"
Grandpa exaggerates a little, but that's just fine.
Because it's still a home, nonetheless.
Plugs be damned.


NEXT WEEK:  I'll Explain Later