I would have called a plumber, but Sweet Husband had it under control. We're a bit stereotypical in that regard.
Don't assume I'm a helpless female. I'm reasonably handy, and I can actually follow directions really well. (Even the IKEA ones that give some people fits.) It's just that my confidence threshold is lower than Sweet Husband's. I'm scared to mess with things that are inside the walls, like electricity and plumbing. Also, I have a mortal fear of big home improvement projects, in general. (Lived in a "project house" as a teenager, parents fought about it a lot, 'nuff said.)
As it turns out, living in a hundred-year-old house that was largely rehabed by the previous owner has been a fairly gentle way to ease my phobia. There's always some little fire to put out, but so far nothing we've had to go to counseling over.
And I sometimes wonder how many of those things are just inherent to home ownership? Even with a new house, there's always something, right? Is that true?
Now that I think about it, I've never lived in a brand new house to test the theory. I come by my enchantment with old houses honestly, I suppose. There's always something breaking. There are crevices that will just never be clean. But our house has a bit of soul that I don't feel when I walk around a newer place.
And I think I'll use that hole in the ceiling as an excuse to paint it a lighter color.