I don’t know nuthin’ about no home ownership.
I don’t know anything about electrical work, structural maintenance, plumbing, carpentry, heating/cooling systems or mechanics. Do you know what I keep in my tool box? A credit card. I arrived at this pathetic state via 20 years of apartment life in New York. It was great! If something broke, you called the super and it was fixed by the time you got home from work. Sweet!
A lot of guys are taught these sorts of things by their fathers but, honestly, my dad never taught me a damn thing.
[Sidebar: When I was in 6th grade, my dad took me to a father/son night at school. It was a one-shot sex education class. They showed us a horrifying filmstrip about fallopian tubes, gestation periods and ovaries. I was a terrified little kid and wanted to hide under my chair. On the way out, as we walked toward the car, my dad looked down at me and said, “If you have any questions, ask your mother.” My hero.]
Can someone more manly than I answer this question? If the tub is draining a bit slow, and you ask your wife to buy some Drano, and the instructions say to pour in one-quarter of the bottle and let sit for :15 minutes (:30 if it’s a stubborn clog) and rinse it out with hot water but you want to do a thorough job so instead of one-quarter of a bottle, you pour in half, and instead of :15 minutes, you go downstairs to read the paper and forget to flush it out for 2 hours, is that bad?