Broken House: Part II: Repairs

This Ceiling Fan Likes to Burn Out Bulb Fixtures

No old house is perfect, and mine is no exception. It's been a champ, but things do break or wear out, and I'm faced with repair or replacement.

I do most repairs myself, but I'm not as young and limber as I once was, and there are limits to my expertise-- so occasionally I hire a professional.


My roommate Christine is a professional, but doesn't do home repairs. She works at the Fox Theater as a carpenter, electrician, light and sound technician, and Jane-of-all-trades. When a prop must be constructed or something breaks just before a performance, she's one of the team that gets whatever needs to be done to make the magic happen when the curtain goes up.

Christine was kind enough to lay new vinyl in my kitchen. About five years ago the existing vinyl suddenly grew tired and holes began to appear. I bought the vinyl I needed, but thought the job was beyond me. I got several estimates, both of which were more than I could afford. Chrsitine did it for free, although I paid her and I hope well. I now have a new kitchen floor, and she's due back to take a crack at putting a marble floor in my bathroom. Those two projects will go a long way toward spiffying up my house. If I could somehow come up with money for new carpet, my floors would all be new.

But it's the small things I planned to brag about-- the little things, the things that are theoretically easy to fix.

Things go awry frequently, even in an apartment. In an old house like mine, it seems something happens on an almost daily basis. Usually it's small and easily remediated-- a burned out light bulb, a stuck flapper in the toilet, a loose hinge-- but sometimes it's a leaky faucet or a bad ceiling fan or an electrical short.

Last fall I set out to repair a slow leak in my ten-year-old bathroom faucet. I installed the faucet, and for that matter replaced the sink it sat in, so I thought it would be easy. It wasn't. Everything went wrong.

I was unable to get the faucet apart. I was following instructions, but it just wouldn't give. Under increased pressure the metal was twisting so much I decided it was time for another faucet-- so I took myself to Home Depot, picked up an identical replacement (or so I thought). The old faucet came out just fine, but for the life of me I was unable to get the corroded drain out. When it became clear I was going to have to cut it out, I looked for my reciprocating electric saw. It was, of course, nowhere to be found.

When I was sure the saw wasn't going to show itself I went to Harbor Freight Tools, bought a new one, and some blades, and cut the drain out. The next day my old saw turned up.

When the new drain was installed, it leaked-- not much, but it had to be fixed. I spent WEEKS trying to fix it. I even talked the plumbing guy at Home Depot into giving me a replacement drain, as I had managed to crack the new one.

With the bathroom sink out of commission, I of course decided to put new traps in the only other sink the the house. I soon had one side of my double kitchen sink out of commission. I spent two days trying to install the trap without it leaking, but no dice. I finally determined that the cardboard washer, which had of course fallen apart on my first attempt at installation, was essential to keep the trap's rubber washer from binding. I made a new cardboard washer from a shoe box, and all was well.

Things went somewhat better after that-- barely. My Water Pik died, and I bought a new one. When I plugged it in it ran for five seconds and stopped, making a burning smell. The seller was kind enough to send me a replacement. A bulb holder on my ceiling fan died. I put in a new one and a second one promptly went out. My desktop computer died.

I was feeling sorry for myself and unburdened on a friend-- who, it turned out, had woes far greater than mine. Her washing machine had gone out, her sewage had been backed up for a week (with eight people in the house!), her lawnmower was stolen from her garage, and she hit a culvert with her SUV and broke a wheel that will cost $500 to replace.

So now I'm no longer feeling sorry for myself.

I'm plugging away at the two-many projects I  have underway, and things are starting to shape up. When Christine gets a couple of days off and does my floor and I give the house a good cleaning it should once again be back in shape-- until something breaks again.