What's your chore score?

DIARY of a January handyman.

I go to change the lightbulb and the lamp cord needs fixing. While replacing the lamp cord, I decide to repaint the front door.

As long as I am painting the front door, may as well polish the brass lock set. The lock set has lost its luster, so I decide to replace it with a new one.

While I am changing out the lock set, I hear the small beep from one of the smoke detectors, indicating a low battery. I track the beeping to the basement, which needs a bit of straightening up.

While straightening up the basement, I decide to oil the garden shovels. Once the shovels are oiled up nice, I decide to plant some petunias.

In order to plant some petunias, I need to repair the backyard drip system. To fix the drip system, I need to program the eight-zone, 24-station sprinkler control module. To program the eight-zone, 24-station sprinkler control module, I need a degree in electrical engineering from MIT. In order to get into MIT, I need eight more quarters of high school math.

Late January is a very dangerous time to be a handyman. Football is nearly over. Suddenly there's all this free time to fill. On average, 20 or so hours per week.

Nevermind that we have a very "lived-in house," full of interesting imperfections. There's the gash where a Christmas tree grazed the front door. There's a swirl in the granite countertops that's not quite right. Over there is where one of the kids gnawed the woodwork.

What kind of person would try to cover up so much character?

"When we're done with the sprinklers, maybe we can work on the bathroom," my wife says.

Oh, yeah, that kind of person. In my experience, wives have "free time radar." Like sarcasm, free time radar is an internal mechanism they use to keep men on task. Some wives also reportedly use their sexuality. However, this has never been documented.

This day, my wife has her ginormous heart set on repainting the master bath. There is a little peeling over the shower. It's been eight years since we painted it, she gasps.

But, seriously, does a bathroom really need to look like a Neiman Marcus? In fact, does a bathroom even need paint at all? If you ask me, the whole thing should be porcelain. An all-porcelain bathroom would be eternal. Like Stonehenge.

That's where I'm drawing the line. I've got plenty of other things to do on this Saturday afternoon. No way am I dropping everything to paint a bathroom that doesn't need painting.