(no subject)
The view from my kitchen window
I've not been around much of late. There are a couple of reasons for this, the first being my addiction to Twitter. Oh, I love me some Twitter. If I can figure out how to Twitter from my cell phone--this will not be happening soon since I haven't yet figured out how to change the bloody ring tone and I have the instruction book handy--it's the end of the world.
Also, I am a home owner. Okay, a home buyer.
First, I'd like to thank President Obama for making this mad adventure possible. Sure, the Democrats miscalculated badly with the recent special election in Massachusetts; you have to run a viable candidate for the office of Senator, not just the first Democrat handy. Absolutely, Senator Ted Kennedy is spinning in his grave at such velocity that the coffin may soon achieve lift-off. But there are good things which have been done (that craptastic compromise health care reform bill is not looking to be one of them) and one good thing is giving new home buyers a little financial break.
We need it. This house stuff is expensive, especially in the case of this house.
I don't much like brand-new and shiny houses. They're easy and they are also remarkably badly built. Some weren't built for the ages, they were built only to survive the new owner's first visit and last walk through before signing their lives away.
Brand new houses tend not to have quirky little corners and niches. They do not have shelves over doorways...I have shelves over the door from the kitchen to the dining room and since I really couldn't think what else to do with them a small gargoyle and a ceramic fairy angel now look down into the kitchen. Medieval types always contrasted angels and gargoyles, why can't I?
The house was built in 1940 and it was built for the ages. By someone whose imagination exceeded his grasp or who was chewing on morning glory seeds, your choice. The house is entertaining and amusing and utterly whack. You can have your brand-new houses which are a bunch of square boxes joined together with no imagination in sight but you'll never have the experience of easily naming rooms The Stupid Bathroom and The Ugly Bathroom because they so are.
Of course, you won't have the experience of undoing much of the work done by the previous wanna-be buyer (it was a rent to own scheme accompanied by a cheerful "Hey, bud, I'll do the improvements myself, no problem") while wishing mightily I could still drink. I'm an alcoholic; when I need to drink I cannot allow myself to drink but I have by-God wished to dive into a bottle of quality tequila at least seven times so far and I suspect the wanting will continue.
The guy I've never met and don't want to meet lest I schedule a meeting between my knock-off Uggs and his backside fixed things the way my father used to fix things when I was a child. Which is to say, he bought components, threw the instructions away, eyeballed it then threw away all the extra parts including in the packaging that he didn't need.
Most of his repairs don't work worth a damn, end game.
We have had to replace the heating system. Well, we had to have a central heat and air system installed since the one he installed is more of a futile gesture than a working system. He installed the heat and neglected to check the duct work which connected said heater to the house; it is so full of holes and so under insulated that the heat didn't really get into the rooms.
We are eyeing the plumbing and the electrical system warily. Both are beyond me when you get to that level of work; I can do odds and sods but I can't redo the waste pipe system in the Stupid Bathroom which needs re-doing because when you flush the toilet you can hear the grey water gurgling under the shower drain. That's not right. Oh and the kitchen faucet will have to be replaced because I think somebody threw away some of the washers and gaskets he didn't need and water sort of drips out of it.
Now, that's all negative and there's plenty of negative including the fact that the former occupant was filty-dirty-disgusting but there's plenty of positive too.
I love my living room. There's an enormous field-stone fireplace and nicely aged yellow pine floors. I love my kitchen which is sort of the center of all good things. I love the room we call the office because it has no reason to exist, yet there it is. I love my pecan trees...the poor things have been producing pecans for years without anyone bothering to harvest the yummy-yummy. I love my half acre of yard, my garage and the little thing in the back I call The Studio and I love looking out my kitchen window at the red barn next door.
I have moments--okay whole days--when I look around the house and the apartment we're vacating after twelve years and I don't know where to start. Actually I just start where I start and keep going until I reach a stopping point; there's a lot to be done.
Last night after some hardcore cleaning I was taking a break by sitting on my front steps. I watched birds swoop in and out of the front pecan trees while Seven Nations' "Heroes in Tennis Shoes" poured out of the tiny boombox I have, the sound of Kirk's gorgeous voice and some hot fiddlin' swirling through the barking-mad layout of the house into the front yard.
Peaceful. I felt peaceful. I'll get it all done, my ambitious gardening included. Step by step, I'll get it done.
Really, if I can feel this at peace after some cleaning which included throwing a very dead mouse out, that's a pretty good thing, right?