Stuff I can’t deal with

This is something that’s bloody difficult to admit to, and I’ve bloody well never done so before.  There are various reasons I can’t deal with the stuff listed here; some physical, some financial, some emotional.  Some of it I could perhaps do if I didn’t have to do it by myself.  The sheer size of the projects daunt me.

• Replace the rotted bathroom flooring (or maybe I get lucky, and only have to replace the sheet of plywood under the peel-and-stick tiles) and reset the toilet in the front bathroom, so it doesn’t leak.
• Chase down the suspected leaking water line that used to supply the fridge icemaker (there’s a dank smell in that corner).
• Sweep and dust the house thoroughly.  We have a ton of books and a ton of THINGS, and they all collect dust and dirt.  I get allergic contact dermatitis these days on top of my asthma, so trying to clean lays me out quickly.
• Weed the flowerbeds.  See allergic contact dermatitis, above.
• Spray the weeds and poison oak in the front lawn and take out the poison-oak vine in the south fence line.
• Wire the trellis, and start training the roses up it.
• Catch six months of back data entry in Quicken up to date, so I can balance my checkbook, and quit overdrawing my account so expensively.
• Catch up back filing—bills and LOTS of correspondence.

Eventual, long-term stuff that I can’t deal with (’cos of money or manpower shortages):

• Build new window screens to replace the rotted ones, and fix the one that’s damaged but fixable.
• Begin taking out and stripping doors and jambs for repainting.
• Learn how to replace double-glazed panes, so I can fix the half-broken window in M’s room.  Only the outer glazing broke, so there’s no heat or cold loss, but it ought to be fixed.
• Learn how to install asbestos-siding shingles so you don’t break them to bits in the process, then replace the missing and broken siding on the house.

There.  I said it.