It’s another gray, blustery day here in Michigan.  My energy levels are still in “summer mode” even if the weather is not, so I have been doing some fixing around the house.  Sleeping in until 8 every day is a beautiful thing!

While I can’t pretend I am just checking things off the to do list in rapid succession, each little tick does make me feel better.  When you have a 70 year old farmhouse and an acre, you are never going to get caught up.  Such is life: you either have time or money.  Or you have kids, so you have neither!

Two winters ago, the weather was brutal.  Despite our insulation, the plaster and paint cracked in some choice areas on the west side of the house.  My major concern was in our bedroom, beneath the window.  It was just at the right level for curious little fingers to start peeling (and most likely eating) the paint.  Considering the amount of grass I have been finding in JD’s diapers, it would be very soon.

I told my husband my plans.  He wasn’t jumping for joy at the idea.  “That is going to take at least two hours!”  I shooed him off, because not only am I capable, I am also stubborn.  Let’s not forget the time I replaced the wax seal on the toilet myself.  Oh sure, it didn’t end well, but I wasn’t the one who broke the toilet!

With my scraper and my iPod (which hubby basically has to sync for me because iTunes and I do not get along) I began to work.

He wasn’t kidding about the two hours.  Tater and Linus each came and helped me briefly.  Both proclaimed it too difficult and moved on to better adventures.  Normally I would have used some bribery to keep them working, but their help was minimal.  Not to mention it is summer vacation, and any time I can spend in relative quiet is bliss.

Then came the plaster repair goo.  I looked at it and thought “it resembles cake frosting!”  Since I am not that great at frosting cakes, I really should not have been relieved.  I pushed on and glided the tool over until I had a relatively smooth surface.  It said it wasn’t to be used over seam tape, so that was out of the question.

I stood back and admired my work.  Perfect?  Not hardly.  It was my first time.  However, anything was better than how it looked before.  And at least now the baby won’t be snacking on some paint chips.

This morning was more of the same.  I asked myself “what REALLY needs to be done?”  Meaning, what has been chapping my white arse the most?

Well, every time I shower the water doesn’t drain out of the tub.  Short of showering with my big toe on the stopper knob, I was out of luck.

I am so thankful for the internet.  I found a video explaining what to do.  I have “fixed” this before, but it didn’t take because I didn’t have the strength to move the bottom bolt.  The video told me that I needed to move the works up and not down.

With a little WD 40, pliers, and some mild profanity, I had the tub fixed in less than 15 minutes.

After my husband took his shower, I had to ask.  “Did it work?  Did the drain work?”

I swear to God, he looked amused as he assured me the water went down just fine.

He better watch out.  I might schedule a camping trip for him and all three boys on his next weekend.  Then I could actually get some painting done……