I’ve been thinking about this Top 10 humorous blog post for months now, dissatisfied with it, wanting to throw it in the trash. It was in my “Unfinished Blog Posts” folder, just rotting there. My problem was that after reading it, I wanted to cry rather than laugh:
- Turning the handle to flush the toilet is like playing on a Vegas slot machine. You never know when an out-of-control cascade will come out of the thing. Looking around helplessly, you find it impossible to keep the pot from dispensing its contents all over the floor.
- The paint on the outside of your house is chipping. It has needed a coat of paint for years now. It looks like an abandoned ghost town, except for the children running around.
- You try to open a drawer, only to have the handle come off in your hand.
- Your kid hangs like a monkey from your towel rack, and the bar falls on the floor with a clang. It’s still on the floor months later, because you haven’t gotten around to re-hanging it.
- The faucet is constantly dripping. There’s a trick to shutting it off, you know. As you’re falling asleep, you incorporate the dripping into a rhythm so that it’s not so irritating.
- The sprinkler system leaks every spring, no matter how much you empty it before winter. Checking it for leaks is like one of those games at a carnival that sprays water unexpectedly at you when you think nothing is happening.
- The instruction booklet on repairing appliances was written by someone who obviously doesn’t speak fluent English. How do you make heads or tails out of the abrupt, unintelligible sentences?
- The remote control for the garage has to be disconnected from the sunshade flap and aimed out the window to get the garage door to open. It’s like the remote control is a gun, and your house won’t let you in unless held at gunpoint.
- The cream carpeting has so many stains that your guests naturally assume you have a polka-dotted carpet. Or they ask if you’re still potty training.
- The spin cycle on the washing machine goes “ka-clunk, ka-clunk, ka-clunk” and sounds like it’s going to fall apart any minute. You never know when one of your appliances is going to explode. (Refer to the Exploded Cauliflower post to hear how one of my appliances exploded.)
So why did I post this Top 10 if it was so lousy?
- I wanted to be finished with the blog post because working on it made me feel discontented with what God had given me. Normally I focus on the good in my life, and I exude gratefulness to God for the shelter over my head and a great husband and family to share my home with. I don’t want to be discontented.
- I don’t ever want to be the nagging wife I used to be, continuously reminding my husband of what he needs to do around the house. Nope. My husband already has an anvil on his shoulders with all of his responsibilities. I frankly don’t care that my house is falling apart, as long as I’m doing my best to keep it clean and well-organized.
- One good thing about writing this blog post: It reminds me that my home is not here. If we are comfortable in the perfect house, we don’t hunger for heaven. I’m telling you, with possible mold under the carpeting in the bathroom, 70′s carpeting in the dark cave-like kitchen, a sliding door that takes Hercules to open, and gutters that are falling off the house, wow, I look forward to heaven. My husband is CONSTANTLY fixing things around the house. He is a hard worker. He just dug up a huge amount of our backyard to fix the sprinkler system, removed and chopped up a rotting rail on the side of the driveway, put stain and a finish on the unprotected wood on our deck all within the past month or so. My husband is utterly exhausted. Our bodies groan, as the Apostle Paul says, with anticipation to see Christ and be set free from the burdens of this life.
- Another good thing: The failures of the house cause me to rely on Christ. I pray every time I flush the toilet, that the contents will go down. And I’m grateful every time it goes down. You see, the stupid malfunctioning toilet is actually a blessing that causes me to connect to God.
- Lastly, I wish the church realized that the elderly aren’t the only ones that get behind on handyman stuff. If we all pulled together like the Amish getting a house up in one day, the men of the church could help catch everyone up by hosting happy work parties at each house, so that we could all fellowship while getting something done. Imagine what a relief it would be to all of our men to be caught up with their to-do lists!