I totally need my dad.
We bought our house six months ago. Previously, we rented. We owned a home in Scotland, but it was a new construction and everything was under warranty. Our house is 15 years old.
Yesterday, a contractor told me that I need to think about getting a new roof, to the tune of around $6,000. There’s a leak inside my refrigerator that causes little ice pools to form on the shelves, and despite my super-classy Shamwow-in-the-back-of-the-fridge remedy, the problem persists. It’s a serious upper-body workout to open our windows, but there’s not much need to open them at all since they’re a bit drafty. One window in particular has obviously had leakage problems in the past, and I’m not sure that problem has gone away. Our patio door has a similar problem and needs replaced.
I could cry, but I don’t dare because I might never stop.
We knew when we bought the house that it was 15 years old and that there were things we would need to update. But it seemed doable. And then we signed all the papers and handed over the Very Large Check for the down payment, and then we remembered.
We don’t have a clue what we’re doing.
I don’t know how to fix a refrigerator. I don’t know how to replace a patio door. I don’t know how to put down hardwood floors. I don’t know how to tile a bathroom.
I feel lost. And when the contractor told me my roof was one windstorm away from needing major work, I felt completely overwhelmed. I just kept thinking, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to do this.”
My husband knows no more than I do, and he’s not even from this country.
And suddenly, I just wanted my dad. Because my dad knows stuff. He’s owned houses and worked on houses and fixed up houses for 40 years. He helped my grandfather build an entire house from the basement up. He and my mom built a second story onto their house when they found out I was on the way. My dad knows how to do these things and he knows whether or not I’m supposed to worry about them.
In contrast, I felt good about myself when I drilled two holes in the wall yesterday to hang a chalkboard. A chalkboard that I bought six months ago.
I called my dad and told him what I’d been told. He gave me some reassuring advice about the roof, which amounted to, “Don’t worry about it.” He told me what he’s done about roofs in the past. He cleared up a bit of my confusion. And then he told me to measure my patio door, pick out the door we want, and we’ll figure out when he can come down so he can replace the door.
Sometimes I hate being so far away from him. It’s an 11-hour drive, and he doesn’t get a lot of time off. I do wish we lived closer. Because sometimes, I need my dad.
