There is a garden out there in need of attention. But I have graduated from assistant gardener to building superintendent and have only had the time for a few short discouraging strolls.
A second gas man came by today to rap on the gas control valve of the hot water heater with a hammer. That didn't work. The diagnosis was confirmed. They need to order a new control valve. It will arrive at some point, maybe before I leave, and I could speed up the repair itself by draining the hot water tank before they come back. What? No shut off valve at the tank. Guess you'll have to shut off the water to the house to drain the tank. What? No place to drain it. Guess you'll have to run a hose through the house and out the back door.
The leaking toilet was fixed. A new non sticking easy for older hands to use exterior keyed door knob was installed. The flooring transition piece between the laundry and kitchen was glued to the floor. Hope it sticks.
The leaking shower head still leaks. It has leaked for who knows how long now. I lacked either the strength or enough courage to force the shower handle knob stems to unthread. There's 80 year old pipes behind that tiled shower wall. I wasn't about to tempt disaster. It will just have to leak for who knows how much longer. Perhaps until the bathroom lands in the living room.
I can't find a drill and drill bits. The building contractor had two of everything. I know I used a drill the last time I was here. I've searched high and low and there is no drill to be found. My shelving project is stymied, unless I find a drill or put it back up the same way it was before it crashed to the floor.
No hot water and no shelving for you.
I take pictures of elegant decay often enough in my travels through the back woods of North Carolina. Those pictures of old abandoned houses often evoke a sublime beauty and sense of mystery. I don't get quite that same feeling living with and dealing with that very same decay.