Second Law

The likelihood of a light bulb burning out is inversely related to its accessibility. That is probably untrue even though it somehow seems right. The first household light bulb I need to replace in 2019 is near the peak of a cathedral ceiling. No big deal, of course, though it means getting the extension ladder, which is half-buried in snow next to the barn. Winter is lingering in this region this year. (“Barn” probably evokes a grander image than to which the structure is entitled.)  The LED replacement should last a while – in fact it might be sensible to replace the other three incandescent bulbs with LEDs while I’m up there. It is a tiny harbinger of things to come, for, despite appearances, spring approaches. That is good in a general way (I’m not especially fond of winter), but it is a season for repairs and maintenance largely neglected in the winter months.

On average, an untended house will self-destruct in about 40 years. My house is 40 years old. It is not untended, but – just as in the case of a typical 40-year-old human – entropy is outpacing rehabilitation. It is possible to build for the ages, and we have much ancient monumental architecture still standing (more or less) to prove it. But unless you have the financial resources of an empire and a workforce of thousands at your disposal to build your home, it is more likely that before four decades are out you will be fighting a losing battle with entropy along with the rest of us. It is probably no coincidence that humans and their homes enter middle-age in about the same length of time. Anything that happens four decades from now is likely to be Somebody Else’s Problem. We certainly don’t want to spend present-day money on Somebody Else’s Problem, so we don’t. My own house was built by my parents for themselves and it served them well with negligible trouble in the 22 years they had to enjoy it. (If I can keep it four more years from today I’ll have owned it longer than they did, which is somehow unsettling.) Middle-age aches and pains crept into the property (and me) since then.

The barn

What happens in four decades? Roof shingles curl, window caulking dries, fogging between the panes of double-glazed windows occurs, siding rots, furnaces fail, water heaters leak, garage door openers quit, locks seize, etc. Even masonry is at risk as moisture seeps into it and freezes. Water in one form or other is always the single biggest threat. Regular readers of this blog (there are a few) have seen mentions in it of re-shingling, wall repairs, window replacement, and so on at my place. I haven’t mentioned a myriad other problems including worn-out central air units, plumbing issues, loose bathroom tiles, bad fixtures, stripped tiles in the pool, and malfunctioning mechanicals of various types. Along with essential repairs (e.g. roof shingles) I make genuinely useful repairs (e.g. water heaters) while tending to put off unimportant ones such as a bad recessed closet light fixture accessible only from an awkward corner of the attic. I don’t expensively update the interior just for esthetic reasons, so my countertops are the same as those in The Brady Bunch kitchen while my bathroom tiles scream 1970s. We are often told that we can recover 70% of the cost of remodeling kitchens and baths through the increase they bring to the value of the house, but 1) that is true only if we sell the house before the remodeled kitchen and baths in turn age noticeably and 2) 70% is not 100% so from a purely economic standpoint we’re better off leaving those remodels to the next owner. If you have enough money to make these upgrades for the personal enjoyment of it, that is, of course, another matter. Perhaps if the next Pick-6 numbers go my way I’ll say goodbye to the Bradys, but not before.

My strategy for personal aging is similar. I tend to issues that would accelerate decline if I don’t tend to them (e.g. dental upkeep), but accept the small stuff (e.g. thinning hair) without fighting it. There are differences between entropy of lumber and flesh, of course. A proper diet and workout routine can put you in better shape this decade than you were last decade. (It won’t put you in better shape than you would have been a decade earlier had you followed the routine then, but still…) Giving your house a workout doesn’t help. It hurts. On the other hand, if you have the resources you can strip a house down to the studs and rebuild it so it is effectively new. We can’t (as yet anyway) strip ourselves down to the skeleton and slap a new body on it, and I’m not so sure that would be a good idea if we could.

Anyway, starting in a few weeks I’ll return to fixing up what I can while the forces of nature lean inexorably the other way. Camus said Sisyphus is happy, and I suppose I am, too, on balance. Besides, even assuming I hang onto this place until the end (a mighty big assumption), soon enough it will be Somebody Else’s Problem.

R.L. Burnside – Everything is Broken