Mountains Out of Mole Hills


For the last two years, since preparing for and finally accomplishing my retirement I have entered my house through a garage door that wouldn’t quite close, look into a kitchen dining area to be reminded by the discolored ceiling, as I passed by the front door whose seal was so bad that I could actually see plants in the front yard through the crack in the door, that by going upstairs I would pass that upstairs bathroom whose leak was still not fixed.

I have also for at least two years consulted with friends, neighbors, plumbers, doctors, lawyers and indian chiefs as to how to fix that leak (which by the way only leaked if you allowed water to pour from the spout, the shower head had no such issue).

Yeah, I shook my head too.

They all told me that that leak would require the wall in my bedroom to be ripped out in order to see what was causing that leak.

Well in that case, of course, the easiest solution was simple. NO ONE CAN TAKE A BATH IN THAT TUB! You of course, may take a shower. I didn’t want to punish anyone, but the thought of ripping out walls led me down a path of mental exhaustion…tile, plumbers, moving furniture, and the most terrifying thought of all, we’ll find bigger problems and they’ll make a movie about me called, The Money Pit.

Then the unthinkable happened. During my homes bi annual version of a GYN exam, I was told that my home needed a complete Heat-a-rectomy. All of the ductwork needed to be replaced.

Yeah, I shook my head too.

So like any self respecting worry wort, I went for a run to think about it and just for good measure to figure out a way to postpone making a decision.

I eventually came to my senses and started the work. A few days later, even as work continued my cousin and her husband came for an over night stay. I showed him all my issues (house only…stop thinking like that). And you’ll never guess what happened.

He fixed my leak for nineteen dollars. He fixed my doors in just a few hours. He patched the ceiling in a matter of minutes and taught me what an “O” ring is, how a door jamb works properly, and that if you can handle a little dust, eventually it all comes back to plumb.

I faced a mountain of work and felt small in its shadow. But many hands make quick work. The amount of work that was accomplished in one afternoon was in my eyes, tremendous.

I guess I needed to remember that there are people you can trust to do the right thing for you without expectation of profit or self benefit. He came in like a wrecking ball. And he was awesome.


About Caro

I am a social worker by training and a peace officer by profession having worked with California’s delinquent youth and young adults for 28 years. I firmly believe that our development as humans depends on our environment and that sometimes we get stuck. As such, I write about those things we sometimes ignore or fail to see until we are forced to pay attention.
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