I have a plumber over this morning. I hate having people in to fix things. I like things that work; I don't like attempting much home repair myself -- yet I hate the ends to that means. I hate picking and calling a company, I hate waiting on the set day, I hate the inane small talk I make ("you know how old houses are"), I hate the crunching sounds and the murmered swearing.
I know what you're thinking: you think it's the forthcoming big bill that's tying my stomach in knots. It's not. "A zillion dollars? Fine." I just want everything to be okay. Maybe that's it: waiting on repairs is a long ride in the land of "Everything Is Not Okay." Other not-okay things will turn up. It stresses me out.