One of the worst aspects of home ownership is maintenance, writes Wyn Drabble. Photo / NZME
Wyn Drabble is a teacher of English, writer, public speaker and musician. He is based in Hawke’s Bay.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that women need to be told that, if a man says he will fix something, he will.
So there’s no need to be reminding him every six months.
It is another truth universally acknowledged that writers who “borrow” the opening of a famous novel are guilty of plagiarism.
Except in this instance because … well … I’ll have to get back to you on this one.
It is certainly true that one of the worst aspects of home ownership is maintenance. One helpful way to tackle the problem is to make a list.
Not a typed-up one. No, it needs to be handwritten and even fastened to a clipboard so that you can, with a dramatic flourish, put a line through things as you complete them. Use a thick black felt pen for maximum effect.
Here it’s time to offer a little tip for compiling a list. The first two items on the list should be things you’ve already done so straightaway you can do your dramatic flourish. Twice.
I, for example, have just completed two chores. I have stacked the current load of firewood and I have pruned the roses.
My flourishes were very dramatic indeed and the listed items look rather helpless peeping out from under the heavy pen strokes.
I need to spoil things, however, by adding that another load of firewood will be arriving in about a week so stacking firewood occurs again further down the list. There will need to be another flourish.
And also down the list is to carry the rose cuttings to the pile of tree loppings and the like. That’s an awkward round trip of about 250 metres over uneven and sodden terrain.
I know there will be those who say that should be part of the rose pruning item but that’s where I have another little tip; split things up into subtasks so that you end up having more things you can cross off.
So one of the most annoying things about maintenance tasks is that they keep coming back to haunt you. More firewood will come; the roses will need pruning again next winter. Mowing the lawn is another one. Never can you say, “I’ve mowed the lawn so I might as well put the mower on TradeMe now.”
And please don’t start me on weeds! You won’t beat them so it might even be a good idea to leave them off your list altogether. Either admit defeat or, if your pride doesn’t allow you to do that, list weeding on every second line of your to-do list.
Another of the annoying things is the sheer number of tasks you need to put on your list. You’re certainly going to need at least a second sheet of paper.
There’s cleaning the mini-weed-gardens out of the spouting, levelling the driveway and filling the potholes, organising the garage so you can fit the car in, washing windows, water blasting the concrete and the outdoor furniture, sweeping up leaves, buying more duct tape, finding the things the dog has hidden in the agapanthus bushes.
And what do you call that day when you have finally crossed everything off your to do list? In most circles it’s simply known as tomorrow.
But don’t think you can celebrate because, when you’ve crossed everything off, it’s time to start the whole list again. It’s a treadmill. Keep the thick black felt pen handy.
So, as a conclusion, I think I’m safe closing with these words (which, of course, lack any of the original novel’s irony): it is a truth universally acknowledged that maintenance sux.