These are words that no self-respecting husband likes to write: My wife sold me out to the Home Depot guy.

Apparently she had developed the impression that I was avoiding some jobs around the house, so she thought some new gear would inspire me.

“I need your best electric screwdriver,” she told him after a quick explanation of the problem (me).

He led her to the power tools and pointed to the top-of-the-line $139 model that, with its adjustable speed, doubles as a screwdriver and a drill.

“This is the best,” he said. “You’ll never have to buy another one.”

When she brought it home and explained what she had done, I managed a quarter-hearted “thanks.” I was skeptical as I hauled out the big drill. Then again, it did seem custom-fitted for my hand. It felt heavy, solid. As I charged the “hyper lithium ion” battery, I was starting to warm to the idea. Couldn’t hurt, I figured.

After all, I have on many occasions wrestled with home repair. Don’t get me wrong, I get that my wife and I are fortunate enough to own a piece of the American dream (along with the bank I send a mortgage payment to every month).

But after about 20 years of fixing stuff in the two homes we’ve owned, my wife and I have learned that homeownership is a lifestyle decision as much as a financial one. The lifestyle: all-around maintenance worker, including novice plumber, electrician, landscaper, grouter and detective sleuthing for the source of the mystery leak in the upstairs bathroom that’s dripping into the kitchen below.

Over the years, I’ve developed some theories about repairs around the house, although they might sound more like rationalizations to, say, a skeptical spouse.

First, every job will require at least two trips to the hardware store.

Second, everything you fix will cause you to discover or create two new problems (which leads to the inevitable conclusion that ignoring the to-do list equals progress).

Third, plumbing is the toughest job. If you are planning to do what seems like an easy plumbing repair yourself, you had better start early in the morning, because that obscure part you will need will be sold only at the wholesale plumbing supply. And it closes at noon on Saturdays.

Other lessons I’ve learned: Ceiling fans can be a bear to install. Because prepping and painting a room takes three times longer than you think, search hard for a reasonably priced painter. Hardware stores are filled with stuff made to fit standard sizes, but because your house will somehow always be the exception, measure first.

I like to think I’m a quick study, but almost every problem is new to me, so I never get to enjoy the feeling that I’m cashing in on some hard-earned expertise. Instead, I feel like I’m compiling a highlight reel of rookie mistakes.

It can be tempting to dream of moving to another house that you imagine will require zero work. But given how soft the real estate market remains, my wife and I recently decided to stay where we are for the foreseeable future, and to put some time and energy into all the repairs that have been frustrating us about our house. So we got up a head of steam and worked through our overstuffed basement. We gave everything we could to charity and got a small trash-hauling bin for the rest.

The workroom was cleaned out completely. We installed a pegboard for my tools and bought a cheap storage cabinet, which I put together myself, to keep all sorts of other things out of sight.

And that’s when my wife brought home the power screwdriver. It’s not the best present she’s ever given me, but it’s darn close. Its spec sheet boasts of “300 in. lb” torque, a 2-speed gear train, a torque adjustment ring, a keyless chuck, variable speed and an LED.

It is hefty and precise. It clicks and thwunks as you set it up. Pull the trigger, and it kicks in with the satisfying whirr of a small jet engine.

I’ll admit it: I kind of like using it. On a recent Saturday, I tore through my to-do list, taking care of all the jobs I had avoided. I even made up a few new ones along the way, just for the excuse to use my drill. The work goes faster, and it’s done right. The new shelves I installed hang straight and solid on the walls. I’m probably fooling myself, but I feel as if I know what I’m doing a bit more. Now as I walk around my house, I no longer ignore the sticking door and the wobbly chair.

The long-running battle I’ve had with our house is entering a new phase. I have a weapon, and I know how to use it.