Prominent among my assorted shortcomings as a spouse and parent is a near-total ineptitude in the realm of home maintenance and repair (as evidenced by my previous posts on the subject). So, a few years ago, when our house’s carbon monoxide detector started its dystopian shrieking in the middle of the night to let us know that its battery was low, I blearily woke up, tore it out of the wall, disassembled it until it stopped sounding like something out of 1984, and decided to worry about it in the morning.

I kind of suck at most home maintenance/repair tasks, so I like to ask my dad for help when he’s in town. Either he knows what to do, and we take care of it, or he doesn’t know either, and I feel more like I can be a successful adult despite my lack of skill in this area.