THE ESCAPE INTO ROOM

Or the reason I’m not getting a new driveway. There’s a number of titles here. Getting into my garage from the outside is very much like an escape room situation. It’s probably why I avoid invitations to go to an actual escape room. My whole day is solving puzzles. My life is an escape room. First, I have to unlock two different locks on the front door. Once inside, the next thing to do is turn the alarm system off. If I delay on this or just tune out the beeping, the alarm company calls me. I’ve done it twice. Once the alarm is off, I have to unlock the two locks on the door from the kitchen into the garage. Then I slide my homemade bar lock aside and lift the garage door. I do all of this so that my scooter can be safely stored inside the garage and if I’m lucky, Michael gets home before me and has the door open when I get home.

I was not lucky on Monday.

Except this time, when I lifted up on the garage door handle, nothing happened. The door refused to move. I stood for a moment in my sweltering garage, studying the contraptions that aids in lifting a garage door. I couldn’t see anything missing or wrong, so I attempted to lift the door with more force this time. Nothing. I went inside and got Michael. He replaced one of the springy pulley things years ago. He still remembers it as his worst case of handyman’s Tourettes ever. He inspected all the things involved with lifting the garage door and noticed that one wheel of one of the pulley thingies (the newer one) refused to move. It did not take him long to declare that this was beyond his expertise. Which is fine. I’d rather he throw in the towel before seriously injuring himself. Also it was probably 110 degrees in the garage. The problem was that my scooter was still on the wrong side of that garage door.

We managed to wrestled my scooter in through the backdoor, finally using the ramp we bought eight years ago. It wasn’t easy and I nearly amputated one of Michael’s arms by smashing it between my scooter and the door jam, but we did it. My scooter is now safe inside the garage. And stuck there. While I made dinner, Michael got on the phone with a company and the end result is that we will be replacing the garage door with a brand new one. Really, this is the smartest option. I’ve lived in this house for thirteen years. The garage door was janky as F when Chris and I moved into the house. It is honestly a testament to my stubbornness that it has survived so long. The new door will not be janky at all. It will have a real locking system and an automatic door opener.

I should be over the moon about all of it.

It will be at least three weeks before anyone can come out for the installation of the new garage door. My scooter is now safe, but also trapped in the garage. And this is honestly not how I wanted to be spending money this year. It feels like we’re starting to hemorrhage and barely have everything under control. I was hoping to be in a tightening the budget mode by the end of this month so we could start socking money away for a new driveway. I totally heard sad trombones while typing that last sentence. Why would anyone want to sock money away for a new driveway?!?! One might sock away money for a new car or a vacation to Italy. Not for a concrete road that leads from the garage to the actual road. It is a sad, boring and very expensive purchase.

Home ownership is an albatross.

The list of wants that I have for my house just keeps growing, like an upgraded electrical system so we can install solar panels and a charging station for the EV will we own one day. I’d really like to gut my kitchen, add some outlets (I have two and if they are all in use at the same time, the circuit blows), and make it a more efficient tiny house space. While we’re at it, it would be nice to turn the current pantry into a staircase to the basement, maybe replace the giant dining room window with French doors that lead out to a back patio and possibly add a porch to the front of the house with an easier entrance. Once that’s all done, we could see about really getting the basement leak proof and converted it into a proper living space. And then….

The list is never ending.

And I guess…the garage door is also on that list. In three weeks, I can take it off the list of wants for the house and I will no longer have to escape room my way into my garage.

SOMETIMES I AM A GROWNUP

We installed a white noise machine for the chickens.

The refinance on my house went through right before everything shut down for the pandemic. The plans were to use that money to pay off some credit card debt and maybe spend a little on some home improvement. Then came the moment when everything shut down and there were concerns about job security. So Michael suggested we just let that money sit for a little bit. We paid down a few credit cards. We put some money into building the retaining wall and mulch. The rest has just been sitting in savings.

We have been talking about putting AC in this house for years. When Chris and I moved in here, it did not even dawn on us that there was not an AC unit. Warmer temperatures arrived and I just flipped the thermostat over to ‘cool’. When nothing happened, I called our landlord, who was great but a little squirrelly. He told us that there was no AC, but he’d bring us over a window unit. The day he brought over the window unit was also the day he told us that the had to sell this house. That one window unit has been cooling most of the house for the last nine years. Michael added a window unit to his bedroom when he moved in and I sleep with a fan on. It is not the most efficient method for cooling, but the money involved in replacing our current system just seemed overwhelming. Michael’s had too much time to stare at the spread-sheet he built for our bills and budget.Well, Michael’s had a lot of time on his hands since he finished the wall. It looks the chalkboard from A Beautiful Mind. It is color coded. After some ‘hmmm’ and ‘args’ and days of looking at his computer, Michael said “Maybe this is the year we finally instal a real AC unit and replace the old furnace.”

So, we called a recommended company, got a quote and signed a large check. This is probably the third most grownup adult thing I have ever done. I know some people are rolling their eyes at this and thinking “it’s just an AC unit, Cindy.”, but hear me out. It is not just about installing an AC or replacing the old furnace before it dies in the middle of winter. We are doing this without financing or monthly payments. We are doing this while we have the money to do it. Instead of being tempted to use that money for something stupid like a beach vacation, we are using it wisely. That is the grownup adult part. That is the part that is making me question my identity. Who the Hell is this person?!? I am normally the one who just ignores whatever is broken and hope that it will magically fix itself. Ceiling is caving in? I don’t really need a ceiling any way. That is my usual approach to all things regarding home ownership. Fifty percent of our arguments involve the lint trap on the dryer and it is me that is on the wrong side of that argument. I would never make it past the first day on a bomb squad because I would just let the bomb explode. I am not proactive. So I feel as though I am deserving of sort of achievement sticker. A gold star for adulting. Make that two gold stars because before the AC guys left, we scheduled an appointment for them to come back in October to turn on our humidifier (y’all, I have a humidifier for the whole house; what the what?!?!). At the same time they will replace the water heater that is currently propped up on two rocks (actual rocks) and may be leaking carbon monoxide into the basement.

Despite the large sum of money we are spending, we are giddy with the what a central AC unit means for us and this house. I will no longer have to sleep with my bedroom door open at night or sleep on top all of the blankets. I may even have to add a blanket to the bed if Michael gets his way. I am sure we will still be fighting over the thermostat settings, the age old accusation of “Did you just touch the thermostat?!” rumbling from Michael with my bold face lie of “no” coming quickly in reply, even while my finger hovers over the button. He has threatened to instal a lock box on the thermostat. His threats are empty ones, but I will no doubt be wearing a sweater in the house during the summer months. The thermostat is currently set at 72 and we both seem to be comfortable enough for now. It is a little odd to not hear the window units. The one in Michael’s room has recently started making wet noises. I can’t wait to set that one out on the curb today.

TRENCH WARFARE

Trench warfare

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I have alternate titles for this post. “That Time We Re-enacted WWI” and “Never Start A Construction Project with A Math Teacher” are good alternate titles. Both pretty much sum up this project. That picture up there is the west side of our house. That ever growing pile of dirt is in our neighbor’s driveway. Michael has promised to power wash their driveway when (if ) we finish this thing. There used to be a retaining wall where that trench is now. That retaining wall was made of old railroad ties and the top one just fell off one day. The wheels and cogs started turning inside Michael’s head and now we have two pallets of stone, half a pallet of sand, and a pile of rocks sitting in front of our garage door. After digging out the old railroad ties, we then had to dig a new trench for the stone wall that is(?) going to replace them. And digging that trench has definitely been an adventure.

Not only is our soil full of clay, but we also had to contend with rebar left over from the railroad ties, two old fence posts that had been cut at ground level (Surprise fence post!), and some ridiculously sized roots from a dead tree in our neighbor’s yard. Every time Michael pulled a rebar free from the ground, he declared himself King of England and started reciting Monty Python. There was a tree root about as big around as my leg transversely crossing our trench that Michael had to cut out with a chainsaw. We came across another similar root, but this one was rotting and soggy. It broke apart in spongy pieces that I inspected with great curiosity and even said something like “I’d like to put a section of this in a petri dish and inspect the fungus that is growing in here.” Michael replied “Do I need to build you a lab in the basement?” You can take the girl out of the science lab, but you can’t take the science lab out of the girl. We dug through layers and layers of clay and probably have enough clay to make a new set of dishes, but we did it.

Finally, after three rounds of reciting Monty Python and The Holy Grail and a whole story about a man slowly digging his way out of prison and escaping two weeks before his release at age 97, we finished our digging. The next step is to tamp down our trench and then lay down some ground cloth. Then, we fill with gravel and tamp, check to make sure everything is level, add sand and tamp, check to make sure everything is level, add a layer of pavers, check to make sure everything is level. Well…you get the idea. While Michael is obsessing over levelness, I will be loading the wheel barrow up with all of the dirt we’ve excavated and then distributing that dirt around the perimeter of the house so we can re-grade for drainage. That is a whole other project that will involve digging out and replacing all of the window wells around the basement windows and mulch. Lots and lots of mulch.

Homeownership is a scam.

This morning, I’m catching up on Killing Eve and nursing my soar wrists and swollen hands. I discovered last night that sleeping on my back causes my right hand to go numb. It has something to do with my shoulder blades and all of the shoveling. I have already called my Mom to wish her a Happy Mother’s Day. She received the plant I had sent to her earlier this week. I’m about to go box up the new coffee maker that arrived Friday to send back. It is leaking and I am very sad about it. Then I might work on a wire stand for my baby Yoda so that I can pose him for pictures. Above all, I am being really quiet in order to let Michael sleep in because as soon as he wakes up, we’ll be out and back in the trenches.

IN THIS COUNTRY, HOUSE OWNS YOU

Backyard

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There are things about home ownership that I wish I had known before buying a house. I’ve been told by every adult “Buy a house! You’re throwing money away by renting!”. When I bought my house, my monthly payment dropped by almost $400 and I was all “RENTING IS A SCAM!” Then the sewer backed up in the basement and I realized my landlord was not going to fix this because I was the landlord. I didn’t know how to snake a drain. Calling a plumber sounded like something only suckers did. So I poured a bunch of chemicals down the drain.

Then I called a plumber.

Michael has done a fairly good job of fixing things around the house. It does come with its fair share of handyman’s Tourettes though and I’ve learned to stay out of his way in these moments. Soon after he moved in, the springy thingy system on the garage door broke on one side. We were all really lucky no one was in the garage when it happened because apparently wire ricochets all around. But now the garage door weighed fifty million pounds. Michael, with some blood, sweat and a sailor’s vocabulary managed to lift the door enough to get a carjack under it. Then he was able to use the carjack to lift the garage door enough to replace the springy thingy. I stayed well out of his way for all of this and this was the beginning of an unsaid agreement between us. I would just let him do what needed to be done. No matter how much he yelled, grunted, sweated or cursed. I would just leave him to it. The only times I did not just hand the whatever needs to be fixed to him was when the tiles started falling off the bathroom walls and when the basement flooded. Both of those times I stepped in because I knew the job surmounted our physical abilities (to not kill each other).

A few weeks ago, the furnace stopped working. It sounded like it was going to kick on, but then would not kick on. Michael did his research and discovered that there was some sensor that he needed to pull out and clean or rub with sandpaper. He did this, put the sensor back in and voila! The furnace kicked into action. He strutted around the house for days because he had fixed the furnace. He told someone he works with about it and the woman responded with “oh yeah. Sensor. You have to clean it.” Then he was shocked that this was something he had never heard of before. Why isn’t this common knowledge?!? I wouldn’t have known to do this. I’m not even sure I know how to remove the furnace panel. Then Friday afternoon, Michael calls me. He tells me to NOT touch the thermostat when I get home. He was in the process of rushing out to the only repair store that carried a certain part for the furnace. This time it was the ignitor that went out. He made it to the store just as they were closing, retrieved the part, came home and then replaced the part. We had heat! He fixed the furnace!

Except the new part was not exactly like the old one.

I woke up around 7 AM Sunday morning and the house was cold. I sighed and then decided not to wake Michael. There really wasn’t anything he could do at that time on a Sunday morning any way. I had prepped dough for another (failed) attempt at making sourdough bread. This required the oven temperature to be set to 500 degrees, which heated up the house well enough. Michael got up a few hours later, came out of his room and then stuck his ear to the floor vent outside his room. I said “Yeah, the furnace isn’t working.” He took his flashlight and headed down to the basement. Then he came back up and called a service repair guy. He looked at me and said “Get your big credit card out because we might be replacing the furnace today.” Then we both sat on the couch with queasy guts waiting on the service repair guy. Our service guy, Jerry, showed up and took a look at the furnace. He pulled out the ignitor that Michael had installed on Friday and it had shorted out because it wasn’t exactly like the old one. Jerry put in a new ignitor (a universal one that is easier to replace), told us when the best deals were for buying an AC and to not let them tell us we needed new duct work when they install the AC because what we have is just fine. It cost us around $300, which is a whole lot cheaper than a new furnace.

Later on Michael and I were making enchiladas, both of us standing near the stove waiting on the oil for the tortillas to heat up. Michael uses tongs to dunk a corn tortilla in the hot oil and then places it my baking dish for me to fill and roll. He started playing around, snapping at me with the metal tongs. I put up karate hands in defense and then told him he better stop because if he hurt me, I’d have to kick him out. Michael gasped and said “But I fixed the furnace!” I immediately responded with “Jerry fixed the furnace!” This caused him to double over with laughter, but when he had regained his breath he said “but I called Jerry.” I had to give him that because I was never more shocked when I heard him call the repair guy in the first place. I thought for sure his next step was going to be taking the furnace completely apart and that this was the winter we would die.

This will not be the winter we die… from furnace failure.

YANK YOUR CHAIN

Weightless

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The torrential down pour from last week has just about everyone stressed about their basements. We are part of that group, but we were lucky because our basement has only a few leaks. Our neighbors'  had about two feet of water in their basement. Most homes in Oklahoma do not have basements, which blew Michael's mind when I told him this. "WHAT ABOUT ALL THE TORNADOES!!!!" I explained that we either stood outside watching the tornado, we sit in a bathtub while wearing a helmet or we stuff ourselves into a closet. Any way, I know nothing about basements. Every time I see water in the basement, I want to throw up because I think it is going to cost us a million dollars. Some people are like "basements are awesome!" while I'm all "basements are a hole that your whole house can fall into!"

We would like our basement to be a livable space and recognize that a wet floor is not conducive to our basement goals. All of our research says that the first thing we need to do is some landscaping. Over time, houses settle and sink, creating a moat all around the foundation. This is a perfect place for water to flow into when it rains. The idea is to pile up enough dirt around the house to make a slope so that water can flow away from the house. We have not started this project yet because it is going to be a big project involving a few truck loads of dirt. The idea of it actually makes me slouch. I barely keep up with weeding the vegetable garden. Also, other than the garbage hydrangea and the banana plant, I am not the kind of person who plants ornamental stuff. Landscaping means planting crap to make things look nice and I am not thrilled with the idea of the constant upkeep. 

Second to landscaping, the next thing to help keep water away from the foundation, is to make sure that the gutters are clean and that the water flows easily out the down spouts. This sounds easy enough. Clean the gutters. We do this a few times a year. We hate it and it is gross, but we do it. The problem is that there is a section of gutter right at the corner above our front stoop that doesn't drain properly even when it is clean because it is angled higher on the wrong end. So water just fills up there and pours over the side, the water creating a large puddle in front of the house. I mentioned this to my friend Sarah and she said "We had that problem!" They fixed it by installing a rain chain that directs the water into a rain barrel. That sounded easy enough, so Michael and I decided that this would be our first step to water proofing the basement.

And we have learned a whole lot about rain chains.

You know those really fancy decorative rain chains that you see in the magazines? Don't buy those kind. Yes, they are pretty and they give you the illusion that you will build a beautiful zen garden around the rain chain. If you buy this kind you will be spending around sixty to eighty dollars for something that will not guide water as much as it splashes water EVERY WHERE. You know what works? Chain. Actual linked chain. Michael took our fancy rain chain back and exchanged it for a different fancy rain chain. When that fancy rain chain did the same thing as the first one, we just hung some chain to see what would happen and it was perfect. Michael is taking the second fancy rain chain back today and buying some length of chain. We are pot committed now because there is a sizable hole drilled through the gutter. 

The rain barrel is about the only part of this project that was easy. We didn't want to, nor could we, spend $130 on a plastic barrel with a spigot. Also, those barrels where too big for the space where we need it to sit. So, Michael made us a rain barrel. We bought a medium sized plastic pot, like the kind you'd plant one of those palm plants in. Michael used the drain pan that normally would sit under the pot for a lid, drilling a hole in the center for the rain chains. Then he drilled a hole in the side and installed a spigot. Easy peasy. We attached a hose to the spigot and as long as I stay below the rain pot, I can water the plants in the front yard. We can also just drag the hose out and let the water drain down the front yard if the rain pot starts to get full.

Landscaping and gutters and flooding basements are all things that make me question home ownership. The air conditioner in the living room has also started to make a weird noise. I do not want to replace this with another window unit, but we are not in a position to finally instal a central air unit. Hey Hard Place. I'd like to introduce to my new friend, Rock. The more money we dish out for home repairs, the more I feel like setting the house on fire. After talking to my neighbor about his flooded basement, I get the feeling that he feels the same way. A couple of weeks ago, part of that same tree that split and landed across my backyard fell on his car and totaled it. He's been asking around for estimates on getting the rest of the tree cut down before more of it falls down and kills someone. He rubbed his hand over his head as exclaimed at the cost and how that tree gives him nightmares. I just nodded my head in agreement. 

They lie to you about home ownership being part of the American Dream. It's really part of the American Nightmare.