It has been light and fairly sunny most of the day so things which might have been overlooked on a darker day were immediately apparent.
I have discovered a series of cracks, lines small fissures.
No, this is not a job for a plastic surgeon (never would be for me), but a rather worrying separation between my landing ceiling and wall.
Since John's death I have turned my hand to many small insignificant repairs but this is something else.
I crossed the road to my excellent garden-designer, interior decorator, good friend and neighbour and hauled him over for a 2nd opinion.
Waiting, hardly daring to breath, with fingers firmly crossed, and expecting the dreaded words, "you have a subsidence problem". I was delighted to hear instead, "doesn't look too serious, I think it's just a case of filling and redecorating."
As he will be doing some work, decorating my bedroom, in a couple of week's time, he will take a look then.
My over-active imagination had the water tank in the loft descending through the ceiling in the middle of the night at the very least, so my relief was immense.
Everything wears out in time, my left knee is a case in point, but for someone as un-handy as me, little jobs turn into potential nightmares at the drop of a hat.
I know it's regarded as a bit 'girly' to admit to having no handyman/woman skills, but at least I spotted it before the ceiling fell down.
Is it just a generation thing, and are other women of my age (assuming there are any) equally inept in a practical sense, or are they all superwomen, and is it just me?
