Every day, he stayed home and watched television and did small repairs around the house. He fixed the porch, which had sagged since before we moved in; probably, it was the reason we got the house for cheap. The place was a fixer-upper, and dad spent the weeks he wasn’t employed taking care of all the minor problems he could. He also cooked dinner every night, since mom was exhausted when she came home from work. Dad was a much better cook than mom, and I remember this was the first time I ever really appreciated food. It was also the happiest I can remember seeing my dad, ever.