“It looks like shit, but it works,” I told my ex husband, as I turned on the kitchen faucet.
That “Waterweld” stuff really works for a girl handyman job, I thought with a smug smile.
Though the neck of my faucet now looks like it has a gray growth on it (Waterweld doesn’t come in makeup-hip colors), I can overlook that, just like the big hole in the ceiling and the inoperable microwave that my ex tried to fix but abandoned once he realized that the part he needed cost oodles more than the $5 wrong part he ordered.
You see, having lost my job more than a year ago (Ditto for my ex, whom I still live with for financial reasons.), I can overlook a lot, including the potato bugs in my bathroom, which have nothing to do with home repairs. They, like my homeless-looking home, remind me of my sorry state of affairs.
The neck of my faucet, the victim of age and wear, deteriorated at the seams. For months, it has sprayed water onto the cheap backsplash the former homeowners had installed.
The backsplash is tile, but they just clipped the tile to fit rather than find the proper size or even use bull nose tile to finish off the edges. I had, or I should say still have, grunge growing on the back of my sink from the months of water squirting on it. The other girl fix, which actually lasted a while, was using metal (I think) electrical tape to plug the hole.
The kluge fixes I now do around the house, when I feel the inclination to do any, come down to an “it-will-have-to-do-for-now” attitude because of my jobless (read: poor) state of affairs. The back yard also needs work. It looks naked (no grass, just lots of mud).
Everything could use a good home lift, but I’m not counting on ABC’s Extreme Makeover, Home Edition to rescue the house joining the Earth like food scraps in a compost heap.
I didn’t let my vagina run wild and produce a dozen or so kids, and I wasn’t born with some awful medical condition that puts, say, a third boob on my chest. (I guess if I were a guy and had a second dick I’d be praising the Lord.) Those are the kinds of people Extreme Makeover picks. So, I doubt I’d qualify. (But follow this link to get an application.)
In the meantime, I’ll be turning a blind eye toward everything that needs fixin’. I’d rather look in the mirror and think about what it would be like to have a third boob, or any boobs for that matter.
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