What in the widowed life is going on here? I have a literal hole in my house.
This is a prime example of a situation where I would have had to exert zero thoughts on the matter if Tony was alive. Instead, I am very overwhelmed.
Last week, my oldest came home from school and said, “Hey Mom – Did you know there’s a hole in the house?” After picking my jaw up off the floor, we go take a look. I didn’t really doubt him, but he was right.
A bird found a crack where the soffit connected to the house and decided to build a nest. After a deluge of rain, the soft spot fell open to reveal the mess. And all of that mess fell on me to handle.
I am lucky I know quite a few people in various trades. So, my first call was to an old friend who runs a critter control business. He came out the same day to take a look and advised the water damage was related to the roof that I got to have replaced after a tornado 2 years ago. We made a plan for next steps with the birds and the gaping hole in my house.
My next call was to the roofer, who I also know. That conversation didn’t go quite as expected. After explaining what happened and sending photos, four hours passed. Then I got a text that was on the builder, not them. He didn’t even give me the courtesy of coming to see what happened in person.
Navigating unexpected home repairs is already stressful. It was demoralizing to be dismissed by someone who knows what I’ve been through. As a woman, I already question everything home maintenance.
My dad and my husband are/were both very capable at fixing things themselves. It was never something I needed to learn. I doubt I ever changed the HVAC air filter until after Tony died. Not because it was hard, but because that wasn’t a mental load I carried in the relationship.
I love my house, the community I’ve built, and the kid’s schools. But when things like this pop up and I feel out of my depth, I find myself looking forward to selling after the kids graduate in 6 years. Home ownership is not always for the widowed life and someday I’ll find myself a zero-maintenance pad. And to the women who enjoy that kind of work, my hat goes off to you, I am impressed.
