Archive for the ‘Homeowning’ Category

June 01, 2009

June 1, 2009

The week that I have internet finally installed in my own home is the same week that I am absolutely too busy to do anything worth writing about. I’ve baked cookies, cut my hair so short that I have been called “sir” at work and failed at both setting up my studio and at fixing my pool. I didn’t completely fail at setting up my studio, but it isn’t complete. It’s like having a todo list. You can’t cross it off unless it’s completely done. And without crossing it off you never feel that sense of accomplishment. I would have finished it except for the horrific bout of the worst pms related cramps I’ve had in my entire life, a three day migraine and a case of food poisoning. I don’t usually get cramps or headaches, let alone migraines. I also don’t go out searching for old, undercooked food so that I can spend three quarters of my day in the bathroom. I did get pretty far in my current book because of that. I’ve begun reading all of Christopher Moore’s books and I’m currently stuck on Island of the Sequined Love Nun. Not my favorite but I must trudge through. I can’t ever bring myself to quit on a book I’ve started. It might just be because I finished Bloodsucking Fiends in a day and a half because I could not put it down. I decided I was going to read them all in the order they came out, and because of this I didn’t jump forward to You Suck. I’m almost regretting that decision now. I can’t get thoughts of Jody and Tommy out of my head.
Moving forward, nothing terribly notable is happening on the house front. Only that the pool needs fixing and there’s not much we can do about it being that we’re not professionals and don’t have any money. I had to spend a good chunk of my paycheck to finally get my Massachusetts drivers license. Stupid RMV. Now I’m living on ramen and pb&js, but at least I can enjoy them in my new spacious home. If only houses were edible. I have read that if you have an edible house it turns you into a cranky old woman who likes to eat children. I’m not entirely sure if that’s true but I wouldn’t want to tempt fate so I guess I’ll stick to ramen and pbj for now.
In between working and hiding out in the bathroom, I’ve been beginning to write my memoirs. I’m new to this writing stuff, nothing besides thesis papers have warranted much attention. I’m also writing it out of order. There are some things better left for later. I’ll say I’m doing it to build suspense and to create an interesting time shift for the reader. “Tarantino-ing” it, as I’ve heard it called. It might just be because I’m not ready to write about some things yet.
I should go check up on the hubby and his friend, they tend to go on fixing-sprees and these things don’t go over very well for me when they’ve been drinking. Man-stuff I suppose.

Here’s a link to Christopher Moore’s blog:
Check out Time Travel Tweets. Good stuff.


May 23, 2009

May 23, 2009

“Honey, what’s a lobster bake?”
“Well, first you make a pit in the ground and start a fire. Then you put a pot of water on it and let it boil, then you begin interrogating the lobsters. They’re not gonna talk though, because they’re lobsters and lobsters can’t speak. So then you just throw them in the pot and cook em up. Then when they’re all done you grill them up to make them nice and crispy and tasty and then you eat them.”

May 21, 2009

May 23, 2009

This situation should accurately demonstrate why I hate the RMV:

The lady at the counter pauses and gives a glance over to her friend who is now playing “Macho Man” rather loudly on her radio. They exchange some jokes and commentary before the lady returns to the business at hand. She issues me a request denial form because I cannot produce adequate proof of residency. At this point in time she is holding four pieces of paper with my full name on it as well as a computer screen right in front of her. And then she spells my name wrong. Not kind of wrong, like switching a vowel but really wrong as in dropping two letters and exchanging one for an ‘a’.

The RMV is just someone’s joke right? No one could have really thought that this whole process was a good idea. No one is that stupid or mean. I really hope all the employees are in on it too, because that’s just sad.

May 20, 2009

May 23, 2009

How do you fix the drain to your tub? Well it’s a simple task that can be done in 20 minutes with a few parts from the Home Depot. All you need is a plumber’s wrench, some sealant, and a few feet of pipe that are the same shape, size and width as the pipe you are replacing. Now shut off the water, remove the old pipe, put in the new pipe, seal, tighten and tadaaa! You now have a fully functional tub drain once more.

Of course it is never that easy. Here’s how our tub got fixed. Step one, visit favorite diner next door to the house you used to live in. Chat up the owner (who is an adorable mid-twenties Portuguese woman, very nice, love her to death) and get her to find you a cheap plumber. She calls up her very Portuguese mother and you can try to eavesdrop on their very loud and very funny mother-daughter conversation that is entirely in Portuguese. I do not know Portuguese but I could tell you exactly what the conversation was about, since most mother-daughter conversations go this way. She asks for number to the plumber she knows, mother says “Oh no, use this guy he’s great,” “No, mom, I just want to call so-and-so” and after all that you get the number for Vanür, a Brazilian plumber who only speaks Brazilian Portuguese and that no one you know can vouch for. Great! End of step one.

Step two, drive 40 minutes to pick up plumber, drive back 40 minutes to house (with plumbing) and let the guy stare at the bottom of your tub for a bit. Now take him to Home Depot so he can get the appropriate parts. Drive back to house. Drive back to Home depot to get parts he forgot. Drive back to house. Wait 4 hours for him to finish work. Then drive 40 minutes back to drop off plumber while your tub is still leaking and he is telling you in very broken English that “es un CLOG, use el Drano, si, es muy bueno, etc. etc.” Oh, and by the way my husband does indeed speak Portuguese, but he wont tell me what they are talking about, only that he doesn’t know the word for pipe and that the language from Portugal and Brazil is different. True, since there is an entire ocean in between them, that would make sense.

Step three, use Drano, wait overnight and voila, tub is fixed. It’s been two days but I’m still crossing my fingers hoping that something doesn’t go horribly wrong.

Now throughout this whole mess, I stayed home cleaned and scrubbed everything in the kitchen, rearranged some furniture, put away all the dishes and food and we now have two fully complete rooms. One to sleep in and one to cook in. That’s all we need right? Only six more areas to complete.

May 19, 2009

May 23, 2009

“It’s a bright summer day outside. It’s beautiful, and you can tell because the homeless are ripening nicely”

May 18, 2009

May 23, 2009

I have made it out alive. And the people within a 50 mile radius have made it out alive as well, and if they didn’t, I swear, it wasn’t my fault. I plead the fifth.

I woke up today, the sun was shining on my husband’s beautiful sleeping face, as the drool so gracefully shifted back and forth with his snoring and as I sat up and touched my feet to the hellishly cold floor, and looked upon the piles of boxes upon boxes upon trash bags and tangled hangers and disassembled furniture, I thought to myself, what the hell have we done?

I walk across my house, my feet telling me its winter even though its most definitely May, and there are blankets and lampshades, a broken patio door, a leak under the sink, and I don’t even know what is in the kitchen. We have a lot of work to do.

So we start our day with a shower, which was fun since we had to find all the shower items in unmarked boxes since my husband decided to wait until yesterday to pack and I couldn’t have stopped the obvious train wreck because I have just finished finals and reviews and I had been out of existence altogether for 3 weeks. But now Im back, swooped in like the superwoman I am and packed the remainder of the apartment, got it in the new house and then died in my bed. That’s where we are now.

The shower. Figuring out how the shower works is always an entertaining experience at the very least and wildly humorous at the best. Because someone came up with the idea of unique shower fixtures and now they are all different, figuring out how to turn the damn thing on is a trial and error experiment with the risk of making yourself, your partner and your entire bathroom very wet, which, after just waking up, is worse than the risk of death. Clockwise or counterclockwise? Pull it up, twist it around, out and turn? Now which is cold and which is hot? To the left or to the right or the very unique to the up? And how to switch from bath to shower? And after all that you have to hope that you still have enough energy to mop the floor and finally shower.

Now we’re going to fast forward past the actual showering, dressing, eating and shopping for home repairs and get right to the flood in the basement. Our good friend decided to come over and help us with some minor home repairs, fix the sprayer in the kitchen, rehang the patio door, replace the toilet seat etc. Suddenly, while he is hooking up the icemaker in our new fridge to the water pipes in the basement, we hear a yell. Not an angry or frightened yell, more a less a loud “Hey guys? Did you know you got a flood down here?” Well of course not! And much to our dismay we had an inch or two of water around the base of the stairs, a puddle extending from the bathroom, around to the stairs and then a bit down the hall. We did it on purpose! Don’t you have small life-bearing ponds in your basement too? We’re just getting ours started! Woo, water in the basement!

It turns out that the most satisfying shower that Ive had in a long time also decided to bypass the drain in the tub and dive directly for our basement. Of course it would. It’s a nice basement. Well now we have a major house repair too as well as minor house repairs, and I decided to leave “the men” alone with their brand new problem/toy. This left me time to completely set up the bedroom (which was conveniently already painted a beautiful eggplant color that my husband didn’t have time to change before we moved, yay!) and to get rid of any previous bedroom fixtures I didn’t quite like before *cough*gigantic-wooden-lamp-monstrosity*coughcough* And now we have a compromise between my modernist tendencies and his huge gaudy furniture.

Let us take a moment to step aside and discuss dust. My husband lived in his apartment for 18 years before I moved in. He fought and lost a war against the dust bunnies. I regained some ground but it was too far gone. Now the dust had traveled upon the furniture to our new house and damn it all if I will let them win this time. I have set up an offensive attack, cleaning anything before it makes its way to its final resting spot. With my pledge, a rag, some paper towels, windex and my handy toothbrush, I set out to vanquish the dust. I will not lose this time.

At the end of the night, the minor fixes were complete, there is a bucket in my basement, the living room is mostly done, and my bedroom is complete. I now have a place to hide when the rest of unpacking seems totally hopeless and if my house continues on this path of falling down around me. But I can’t be totally upset. I’m in my first year of marriage to the most wonderful man and we are now officially homeowners.