Now that we have a house, we have a whole new host of worries. In our garage, there is an angry hissing sound from the pipe that carries the main water supply (I know that this is the function it serves because there is a note explaining this fact that is attached to it with a string — otherwise, I would never have guessed).
Who do we call? A plumber? The City of Atlanta water department official? An air conditioner/heating repair person? Will it explode during the night? Or is this hissing sound completely normal?
Strange sounds aren’t our only concern in our second month as house owners. A visit from an exterminator two weeks ago brought up some disturbing revelations.
As I type, my husband is in our garage, cleaning up what may or may not be rat droppings, while wearing several layers of protective clothing (per the suggestion of the exterminator. No one wants another plague).
Apartment life was far simpler. No lawn to mow; weeds to pull; air conditioner to service; rodents to worry about; or dining room to furnish.
The amount of space you have seems to be directly proportional to the number of home-related worries you have.
Reverse Culture Shock 