Home is where...

...you work the hardest on your day off from your regular job.
My wife brought this to my attention one day a few years ago.
It's true.  It seems like we work harder on the weekends than we do during the week.
Not that we don't do our jobs at our jobs.
Both of us work in offices, and for the most part, do our work at PCs, with occasional trips out of the office on work-related business.
At home, our duties are much more physical.
Managing a three-year-old daughter.  Keeping the house in decent shape.  Washing the mound of laundry that never seems to end.  Running around on errands to do the things we don't have time for during the week.
Keeping the house in decent shape is the big one.
Sometimes I absolutely hate being a homeowner.  Maintenance is one thing that never seems to end.
The grass needs cut.  Hedges need trimmed.  There's a leak in the roof.  Something needs done about that little knuckle of land between the rear sidewalk and the garage.  That vine needs trimmed back from the chimney.  Don't forget the one going up the other side of the house too.  The walnut tree behind the house needs pruning before those branches touching the roof lift the shingles.  The electric meter socket is slowly disintegrating.  Are we ever going to get the basement remodeled?  The water softener needs new 'stuff' in it.
The kid's play set needs stained.  The jambs on the garage doors need painted.  Oh, why is the garage door opener making that clunking noise, honey?
By my own admission, I'm not particularly handy around the house.  I do try to make an effort though.
But I always tell my wife that I don't guarantee success.
We had an episode where the ceiling over our half-bath was leaking until finally wearing a hole.  Not being familiar with the layout of my house (no longer the case), I was unable to find its source.
We got the ceiling re-done.  Then the leak started back up.
I was told by the previous homeowner that the attic could be accessed in the smaller bedroom.  I couldn't find it before.  My latent rage over this lack of control over such a thing finally got the best of me and I went on a quest, more than ever determined to find it.
I yanked open both closet doors, beating on the ceiling in the first one until I was sure I broke my hand.  No luck.  Then I went to the second one and beat even harder.  I felt something give way that didn't quite feel like a hole caused by my own fist.
It was an access panel.  Eureka!
After icing my hand, I went up to the attic and to the area where the leak was believed to have begun.
I saw where it was situated.  Wait till the next rain.
Then it came.  Back to the attic.
Found it.  And it was a doozy.
VERY difficult to get to.
Got some silicone caulk and smeared it into the leak seam.  Still a leak.
I shoved a board under where the drip was just to get through the rainstorm.
My wife was going out of town for the weekend for the annual trip to Chicago with her college roommate and best friend.  With my brother-in-law's family and my in-laws taking my daughter off my hands for a bit, it was a good time to get some of these things done.
Little did I know that this would be an adventure unto itself.


NEXT WEEK:  Part II