Why I hate home ownership.

I don't, really, of course--most days.  I wrote that to get your attention.  But.  

In a sentence: It forces me to pretend to care about a process which doesn't come naturally to me.

In a paragraph: I can get really angry, just seething, when something like our clogged gutters and partially dislodged drain spout become the problems they're becoming, because then I have to role-play The Dedicated Homeowner.  At the heart of it, no big deal.  We'll call a few people, get some estimates, and have the job(s) done.  But you would not believe how much I hate calling experts and listening to them tell me things which I have no choice but to agree with, because who am I?

I don't hate home ownership, but I hate the side effects of it.  Here in mid-spring, for example, we have these little "fuzzy" things (pods?) dropping left and right from the trees, all over the deck and the yard and the driveway, lodging in the dogs' tails, just making a mess.  A good clean sweep is needed, and in my weak moments such as now, I want the deck to sweep itself.  

But I'd much rather sweep than supervise.  I'm not interested in price comparisons and micro-managing to ensure that maintenance and/or preventive work gets done properly, but I realize I have to do so.  I just want the work to be done.  Give me five loads of laundry.  Hell, give me a light switch to change out.

This also may be explained by the Talking End-of-Month Low-Bank-Account Blues.

Whaddaya gonna do?