After much hassle and more money than I ever dreamt any move should cost, we closed on our house November 7, 2003. I promise this will be the last house post for a while.
As rumor has it, the first owner lived in a trailer, while he built the basement and then moved into that. It had a low sloped peaked roof on it, and a bucket affair for a septic system.
The second owner then built the upstairs, without removing the original roof or replacing the bucket. We have twelve inches of ceiling, roofing and flooring between the first and second floors. It is very soundproof, except for the central stairway, and, there is no sneaking around in our house as it has the squeakiest floor on the planet.
We did, when spring broke, get a real septic system, paid for by escrow money.
When, the foundation was put in, there was no gravel added, so the side that is underground, is having wall seepage problems. Mom used to get little rivulets of water down the wall. We got a repair estimate and, ever since, I have been threatening to buy more shovels for our four strapping boy. They are strong and limber and I would not have to take the porch off if they got under there and dug it out.
We had twenty-two separate propane leaks to fix. After the fifth propane leak was found, I called the propane company out. They declared we were leak free. That was sixteen leaks ago. One set of leaks was because the previous owner built a box around the propane line and then used a nail gun, not on the edges, but right on the middle, to nail the cover on; thus, nailing through the propane line; not once, but twice. You never saw a disabled man move so fast in your life as when my husband pulled that cover off to check.
The plumbing is another constant battle. Husband recently fixed the kitchen drain leak for the third time. And, the downstairs bathroom has so many leaks that our water bill has doubled and the bathroom is looking like a permanent site of remodeling. As the last repair left a square cut out of the bathroom wall and the cut-out piece leans in place.
One leak that has been repaired previously, and he tells me it has “healed itself,” is by the water heater. I go check and report that the bucket is overflowing again. And, he says he thought it was fixed. Apparently, he is holding an invisible plumber hostage down there.
Then there is the infamous leak in EMT boy’s bedroom from an original leak that, when husband repaired it, it flooded my mother’s room, right above her computer. Gaffer and I grabbed empty Rubbermaids and tried to catch the waterfall flowing above mom’s computer station. It was “Abbot and Costello meets Niagra Falls.” I recently discovered, the hard way, that it is still leaking. EMT boy’s room had to be dried out, yet again.
I now have soot on the wall and a large hole from a fire he started in the wall behind the kitchen stove. He has also, when putting shrink wrap on a package (he shrinks my drawings) melted the carpet in one room.
Don’t get me wrong, I love it back home in Indiana. We have four acres and a pond (30 feet deep x 30 feet x 100 feet) and the boys ( we have four living with us now instead of one) use it all summer. Recently, they built a fire pit and use that constantly too.
The wooded property is beautiful and, each morning I take a walk with Chihuahua, weed, pick vegetables and take pictures. The last thing I do at night is let Chihuahua out, and step outside to listen to the crickets and frogs, and spend a few minutes just staring at the stars and watching the tree tops sway.
I think, if I lived in a tent, I would be very happy; colder maybe but dryer.