Tag: chores

Get a Real Job

Recently EM2 asked me if there were any chores around the house that she could do to earn some money. I told her there were plenty of chores to do inside the house and out in the yard and I would be happy to make up a list for her.

She asked how much I would pay her, and I said I’ll pay you the same rate I got when I was a kid. I’ll let you live in my house rent free and let you eat my food.

She didn’t like my answer very much.

I know better than to let my kids do any work for me. I learned my lesson a long time ago with EM1. Most of the time, when she “helped,” it ended up making more work for me than if I had just told her to sit on the couch and not move.

I recall one instance where I told EM1 to take my car to the gas station and fill the tank. I gave her $10 for her time and told her to use my credit card to pay for the gas. She drove away and didn’t come back for two hours. Apparently, she had a few errands to run and figured that was a perfect time to do it. She even used my credit card to buy herself lunch, get some “cute shorts,” and pick up coffee for herself and EM2.

The car had less gas in the tank than when she left, my credit card had three extra charges on it (not including the gas), and EM1 still had the original $10 I gave her sitting in her wallet. I felt like I had just fallen for some sort of Nigerian Prince scam.

My wife thinks I’m being cheap, and I should pick out a few tasks for EM2 to do and give her some money. Of course, this is the same woman that will give me a “honey-do” list a mile long and when I ask why, she says, “because you love me.”

Seems a bit of a double standard.

Anyway, I caved, as I usually do, and I told EM2 she could help me do some work in the yard and I would pay her for her inexperienced, mostly useless, assistance. Yes, I used those words. She pulled out her phone, glanced at the weather reports to check the temperatures for the next few days, then said, “No thanks. How about something in the house? Maybe I can vacuum the carpets?”

I didn’t realize there were stipulations to her participation. I wonder how well this is going to work for her when she is out in the real world, working for an employer that doesn’t find her as cute and charming as I do, and she tries to tell them, “It’s too hot, so I’m going to stay home, today. But don’t worry, I’ll vacuum my carpets to make up for it.”

I never got handouts from my dad when I was growing up. If I asked for money, he always gave me the same speech. “Go out and get a real job and earn your money like I do.”

Okay, this isn’t totally true. I do remember one time my dad actually offered to pay me for some yardwork. He told me to go out in the front yard and pull weeds out of the lawn. He told me he would pay me 5 cents for every dandelion I pulled. I grabbed a paper bag, gloves, and this weird, weed-pulling tool that looked like an overbuilt screwdriver with pitchfork points at the end, then I went to work.

I recall pulling a few dozen dandelions and, as I went, I would take the weeds that had already blossomed into white, fluffy dandelion heads, and blow the seeds all over the lawn. My theory was that if I was only going to make 5 cents for every weed, then I would need to make sure there was always a steady supply of new weeds growing to guarantee future money.

It was pure genius.

At least I thought it was until my dad came storming outside and screamed, “What the hell are you doing?” That was the end of that particular workday. It was also the first time I ever got fired from a job, and it wasn’t even a “real job.”

I don’t think I got paid for the weeds I had already pulled, either. Very disappointing.

Now that I’m the adult, I have a better understanding of my dad’s mindset. Why should I pay EM2 to do a job I can do myself without costing me any money? Or perhaps, more to the point, why pay her to do something that I was going to ignore, anyway?

Sure, I could offer to pay her to pull cobwebs down from the ceiling, or arrange the pantry in alphabetical order, but what’s the point? I don’t care about either one of those things, and it wouldn’t bother me if neither one of them ever happens.

Maybe I should just cut out the middle man and give her ten bucks to sit on the couch and watch television.

It would be cheaper than sending her sister out to gas up the car.

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That Magical Time of Year

Winter must truly be a magical season, but I don’t mean that in a good way.

Every year in the late fall, I clear out weeds from the garden and orchard, I put down fertilizer for all the trees and bushes I have planted over the past decade, as well as trimming and pruning those plants so they come back healthy in the spring. I double check sprinkler valve timers to be sure they have fresh batteries and are functioning properly. And I spend hours checking miles of hoses, sprinkler heads, and drip lines to make sure there are no clogs or leaks.

Then comes that magical few months we call winter. Winter absolutely must be magical because somehow, every spring, just like magic despite all my planning and hard work, I find dead trees surrounded by acres of weeds, non-functioning valve timers, and broken drip lines.

And the chores begin all over again.

Abra-effing-Cadabra!

This year was no different. I spent several weeks recently identifying all the broken stuff and trying to fix it. I have cut down three dead trees and replaced two of them. (The third one may grow back on its own, so I’ve adopted a wait and see policy with that one.) I have spent hours mowing, spraying and pulling weeds and have only just begun to see progress. And, I discovered several broken drip lines throughout the yard, two broken sprinkler heads, and three valve timers that have decided to retire early.

Buying replacement parts has also become quite the endeavor this year. My choices are to go to a nursery and bump into every other stir-crazy, shut-in trying to find any excuse to be out of the house right now, or go online to order parts and wait out the prolonged delivery times. Personally, I prefer the online route, but that’s only because I dislike interacting with people. Especially large crowds of people that should be staying home instead of constantly popping up in my way.

My latest project involved the three dead valve timers. It only took two weeks to complete what should have been a five-minute job. I started out by going to each of the timers and checking battery function. Two of the dead timers came right back to life with a fresh infusion of double-A goodness. The third one was not so cooperative. When I opened it up, it immediately leaked some kind of grey and brown crud all over my hand.

That timer was all the way dead and needed to be replaced.

I checked my toolbox and the cabinet where I keep spare sprinkler parts in the garage but could not find a spare timer. I was sure I had one, but I guess winter had one more magic trick up her sleeve and made it disappear.

Next, I went online and ordered a new timer.  I decided to order two of them because I figured I should keep an extra one on hand for when (not if) the next volunteer in the yard decided to call it quits. Then I spent the next two weeks hand watering all the plants on that particular drip line until the new timer arrived.

With a new valve timer in hand, I trudged out to the well pump to turn off the water to our yard. Have you ever noticed that one project often turns into two or three?

As soon as I turned the water off, I noticed that the water pressure in the lines was low. This happens every year or so when the water filter gets gummed up and starts interfering with water flow.

To check the filter, I unscrewed the filter housing and was instantly assaulted by a geyser of slimy black water. It was just like the end of the log ride at Disneyland, that is if the log ride was dropping you into a vat of stagnant sewage and it smelled like a humid locker room.

I slogged back to the garage, dripping and dry heaving, to look for spare filters. Fortunately, I had a spare set. I swapped out the old filters for the new ones, made a mental note to order some new filters for next time, then trudged back to the front yard to replace the sprinkler valve timer. (You know, the original reason I was even out there.)

After replacing the dead timer, I decided to turn on the sprinklers to check the water pressure. I wanted to see how they were working after I had put the new water filters in the well pump. One of the sprinkler heads started gushing water from somewhere two feet underground.

Apparently, the water pressure was excellent. The sprinkler lines? Not so much.

Back to the garage I went to get a shovel and a new sprinkler head.

Despite all the fun things I got to do that day, my favorite part of the day came when I took the extra valve timer I had ordered and decided to put it somewhere in the garage where it would be easily found when I needed it. The way things were going, I figured that day might come sooner rather than later. I decided that the best place for it would be a storage cabinet right next to my toolbox.

I opened the cabinet and placed the new timer on a shelf…

Right next to three other brand-new, never been used, still in the box, valve timers.

Abra-effing-Cadabra!

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Enjoying Deep Dark Thoughts? Follow me on Facebook so you don’t miss a post. Just go to my page and click the “Like” button to receive updates on my blog and other projects.

And you can follow me on Twitter @gallenwilbanks.