You might think this will be a deep, vulnerable, moving essay about brokenness and healing and loss. Nope. It is about things that are broken. Just a few things around my house to give you a taste for the reality of living here.
My kitchen faucet. Crooked, but works so I guess it isn’t technically broken.
My kitchen sink drain. It is at a slight upward angle from the rest of the sink so I have to push all the water with my hand to drain it.
My shower head. Try to shower at that angle. Just try.
My shower drain. Drains, but only when plunged every other day.
My shower pipes. Somehow they just can’t get the spacing right. This means we only use one faucet or water will spray out the side. No worries, there is no temperature control anyway. Not because that is broken, just because it doesn’t exist here. Summertime=hot showers, winter=cold showers.
My bathroom door. Pieces of it are peeling away in large chunks.
My bedroom wall. If my husband and I fight and we slam the door, chunks of wall fall to the ground, from several walls, not just this one. Oh wait, we never do that, so no worries.
My shed door. Used to hang on hinges but once it fell off we used it to cover the gaping hole in our patio over the sewer so that no one (else, sorry) will fall into our (actual, in the truest sense of the word) crap. Now it just leans against the shed (inside of which, the ceiling is falling to the floor).
My door frame. Why, oh why would you build a door and a frame to actually fit each other?
My bathroom light switch. Nothing like risking electric shock from 220 volts while damp from a shower or after washing your hands.
Loose cords. They must be broken, because they must have been attached to something at some point in time. But that thing is no longer here and the cords just dangle. All over the house.
My washing machine. The bottom is rusting off so water pours out this corner.
All in all, we love our house and are so thankful for it. We live in a quiet, boring, lovely neighborhood. We have a big, ugly, thorn-strewn dirt yard that is perfect for volleyball and soccer. We have a house that is a good size for our family, with an imperfect but pleasant design. We have stairs inside. They go nowhere, but they provide the illusion of space. We have running water, most of the time. We have electricity and internet, except when we don’t.
We have memories and game nights and delicious barbecues and holiday parties (just don’t all stand over the sewer at the same time…). Sure, things are broken, but we’re okay with that.