|Couldn't catch the drip in the photo|
But I used to think it was my responsibility to DIY with some household repairs. I think at one point I could even take a u-joint apart and unclog it--now I use poisons that I resent or a baking soda recipe that I found online. Wonder where I put those directions? And since my children have forbidden me to climb, I wait for a tall person to come along and change some light bulbs. Lately I've been waiting for Christian to empty my recycle bin--if it gets heavy, I'm unsure of my balance crossing the porch. I have to ask myself carefully if this reliance on others is a symptom of aging or laziness--either way, I don't come out smelling like a rose. Almost in defiance, I emptied the recycle myself this morning.
This train of thought was prompted today by the fact that my kitchen sink faucet won't quit dripping. The sound is like water torture, and I have nightmares about my water bill. But I was sure I could fix it. Sailed into the hardware yesterday to ask for a washer, only to be told they came in all sizes and I should bring the whole unit at the end of the faucet with me. Last night in a fit of determination, I unscrewed it, cleaned out some gunk, put it back together again, and was amazed at how forcefully the water flowed--I'd forgotten the little filter. So I did it all again. Screwed it on as tightly as I could. Still drips. Now I don't know if I did it wrong or just didn't get it back together tightly enough--or I really do need a new washer. Good thing Christian is coming for supper.