One thing nobody tells you is you spend a majority of adult life fixing things. The more things. The more fixing. Teenagers are racing to adulthood as fast as they can. They should slow their roll. Adulthood can feel like a series of problems that need to be addressed, from the smallest irritations to massive, complex issues that involve decision trees and family meetings and stacks of cash. If we are lucky, we all end up here. But oh, the FIXING.
I have lived in my house since 1998. When we bought this house, we told our friends, “We probably won’t even be able to find each other in all this space.” Now I’d pay a thousand dollars if there was a place to hide in this medium-sized, always-filled-with-humans house. I can hear someone sigh from a floor away. There is a lot of sighing.
Adding people and their things to this non-mansion ate up square footage but also provided more “opportunities” to fix things. Our family is filled with personality but has not been blessed with a lot of patience. So when things need maintaining we try hard to resist the throw-away and start-over mentality. But we are frustrated fixers.
The satisfaction of fixing something and avoiding the $150 service call is really unparalleled. But the number of things seems to grow. Help. Me. I don’t know that we have all the skills. Remembering/changing passwords, troubleshooting with electronics, fixing sports equipment, mending ripped seams, tightening cabinet knobs, rethreading hoodie drawstrings, repairing leaking faucets, changing air filters, smoke detectors, light bulbs, dishwasher filters, cleaning drains, addressing all the squeaky things with all the specialty solvents, remembering to refill the salt for the water softener, the salt for the walkway, the salt for the kitchen and on and on and on. Maintenance is a full-time job.
I’ve been lighting my burner on my range with a Bic torch lighter for about three years now. I had a technician come look at it when the problem started. The cost of having the igniters replaced is approaching half of what a new range costs. Also, the parts are very difficult to obtain. Also —Will we remodel soon? Should I replace all the appliances? Do I want to spend that on the repair when I just found out I need new tires on my car? Should we just move to Fiji and leave this life behind? So I just keep on with the lighter. It’s like camping every day here… inside.
Many years ago, I asked a builder friend and their spouse if it was “perfect” to live in a house they designed and planned from the ground up. They said it was pretty wonderful to see their vision come together. It certainly looked perfect. Everything brand new. Theoretically, they were living life without fixing. Privately, she admitted her dishwasher door did not open to a 180-degree angle because they had placed the island too close, making it nearly impossible to load and unload the dishwasher. I felt a real perverse joy knowing this. I still do. It proves that even NEW isn’t the solution.
There is a home renovation and maintenance course offered by our local high school. I wish I had taken something like that many moons ago. I wish I could take it right now. I took computer science in high school, which consisted of me typing 4 pages of commands to watch a tiny green car beep across my screen. Ask me how often I’ve needed to call upon this skill. If only I had learned how to install a garbage disposal.
A few days ago, I fixed my pepper grinder. It hadn’t been working, and I watched not one but two YouTube videos on how to fix it. It works for now. If you are feeling powerless, go fix one small thing. It is euphoric. There is no fix it and forget it. It’s fix it and remember what you did because it will be needing to be fixed again.
Jen Fortner is a freelance writer who enjoys asking friends and strangers far too many questions. She spends her spare time sitting in inclement weather watching youth sports, traveling, cooking, and searching for the very best baked goods. She lives in Shorewood with her husband, three children and the most spoiled dog.