When soothing words no longer work...
We're closing on Leisa's house July 15th. As I write this, it's July 2nd. The guy just came from Bell Stone to measure for our granite counters this morning. It's about three weeks from measurement to install. Leisa's first worry was that we wouldn't have countertops our first week in the house. Where would she put the coffeemaker? That's now the least of her worries. She spoke with Mark, who informed her that he can't get a certificate of occupancy until the countertops and sink are installed in the kitchen. This will happen at the end of July. This was about an 8.4 on the ole Richter Scale of things to worry about. "We're going to be homeless...out on the street," she wailed. The Trouble Dolls were packed this weekend, but their online counterparts still exist. This sounds like a problem for the Dolls.
"Homelessness" is all she talks about. Except for the fact that she doesn't like moving in stages--boxes one week, furniture the next. "What are we going to do when all of our stuff isn't here?" Hey, it's pretty obvious to me. If you can pack for a week's vacation and do without all of your stuff during that time, it shouldn't be too bad for a few days in the house. (There's an old George Carlin routine on the tip of my brain, but I can't quite recall it. Has something to do with "My Stuff" and taking a vacation to Hawaii.)
I spoke with the counter guy this morning about expediting the order. He said they can't, but that he thinks code only requires a "working sink" in the kitchen. Drop an old sink into a piece of plywood atop the sink base; stick a crappy old faucet on there; then hook it up. Sign the Certificate of Occupancy and send out the housewarming party invitations! Well, maybe no party, yet--it's monsoon season and it's hot and sticky. Or it will be by the time we get around to moving, which just happens to be four days from this writing.
We have a Budget truck scheduled for Sunday to move all of the stuff out of Leisa's garage and back to the "new" house.
Fig. A. Will all of this "stuff" fit in a fifteen foot van?
Fig. A. A 1991-1992 ASU catalog, a social psychology text for a class I took in
1996, and a French text for a class I took in 1995. I can't bear to part with
this stuff. Did I once say someone else had psychological
disorders?
Leisa has a moving company scheduled for July 12th to move all of the furniture. With no certificate of occupancy, where will we go?
If there was one positive note to the week, it was the appearance of the demolition guys on Monday morning. We had spent some time cleaning out the shed and moving it into Leisa's garage (as seen, above) before the demo.
The interior of the shed during week thirty one. Note the concrete slab
thrusting upward, painted safety red so I would be sure to see it and wouldn't
trip.
This is typical of the wiring in the shed: a bunch of extension cords. Code says
it's not a fire hazard if the building isn't occupied. I think. I'm guessing
that paneling was installed in 1973.
When we got to the house, Monday morning after registering Brittany at her new
school (note the
two separate links, and this one, too), the demo guys
were already hard at work.
They just took a big ol' tool and busted the siding out.
Leisa discusses the project with the demolition supervisor and his girlfriend.
Under the old copper roof were shingles.
I'll huff...
...and I'll puff...
...and I'll b l o w your house...
...DOWN!
Leisa, dancing on the grave of the shed.
Cleanup begins.
Later that afternoon, they were working on the slab.
By that evening, nothing was left except the memories.
"What a great way to spend $800!"
It seems like only yesterday!
The shed isn't the only thing happening this week. The tile in the bathrooms has
been grouted. Here's the floor of the master bath, and the master shower.
I don't have any pictures, but we got the living room and media room floors sanded and refinished this weekend. They look so awesome! You'll have to wander by the house and take a look. It only cost $500.
On Friday, the Fourth of July, the Demo guy showed up to take out the oleanders
between our yard and Georgia's place. He also took out the brick patio and
railroad ties in the front yard. We're getting ready for the block fence, which
will be screwed up in Week Thirty Three!
A long time ago, Georgia came wandering into the backyard in a pair of
coveralls, wearing workgloves and carrying a shovel. She informed me she was
going to dig up one of the bushes along this fence; that her son, Park, who
lived down the street, had a hedge with a dead bush in it. She didn't think I
was using mine, so she'd dig it out and give it to Park. I gently dissuaded her
of this notion, and now, here we are four years later and I'm doing what I
wouldn't let her do back then.
Leisa and I had a chat with her Friday morning that went very well. There were some vines planted in my hedge, but they're going up her trellis. Unfortunately, when I trimmed the hedge back a year or so ago, I cut most of the vines, so her trellis just has a bunch of dead stuff clinging to it. The demo guy wanted permission to take it down as part of his demo. We wanted to make sure it was okay with Georgia, which it was. They're now down. And this demo work is only costing us $850.
And here's the lead demo person,
who will probably complain about the fact that this photo makes her look fat, or
that she doesn't like her hair. Flip a coin.
At the top of the page, I made reference to George Carlin, and a routine he used to do involving "stuff." I stated that I had a vague recollection of it, but through the magic of the internet, and the diligent research of friends who have even less to do than do I, you can read the entire George Carlin routine here. Thanks, Brian! Enjoy!
I mentioned that soothing words no longer work. During the past thirty odd weeks of construction, I've been pretty good at diffusing various issues, such as the house falling in the really big hole, with gentle, soothing words. As we come closer and closer to closing on Leisa's house and moving into a house that isn't quite ready, soothing words are more difficult to come by. You might wonder, "what does work at this advanced stage of construction?" Good question. The answer is, "the cheaper, the better."
What have we worried about today, that has prompted this advanced state of
incapacitude? We have a list: Termite treatment. Certificate of Occupancy. Completion of Demo.
Money. Leisa's relationship with Dave and the impending "Trial Separation."
Plumbing. Electric. Justin. Granite Countertops. Money. Leisa's hair doing "that
separatey thing." Money for furniture. Money for tequila. Money. Dave.
Money and the way Dave spends it. DVDs. Money.
"I think I'll pass out, now." And look at that cute, little ring. Tomorrow, we'll worry about the fact that Leisa bent it slightly while she was stacking boxes in the moving van.
Sunday morning dawned bright and early (and with heavy consumption of Bandolero brand Tequila, Sunday dawns a whole lot brighter and a whole lot earlier than you really want.) We shuffled down to Budget and got a fifteen foot van and commenced to emptying the garage.
Here's the first batch of stuff in the van. Sadly, there are no more pictures.
More on this in Week Thirty Three.
Justin has failed to abide by the rules we set. Accordingly, one of the things we will be doing with the Budget truck on Sunday is moving his things to his brother's apartment. From now on, the Justin Report will be updated as the situation warrants.
And speaking of his brother, Brandon, Brandon's fiancé, Jennifer, gave birth this week to six pound, eleven ounce, Briella Isabelle Bullard. Mother and daughter are resting comfortably in St. Joseph's Hospital. Congratulations to everyone involved. I will post some photos of the baby here, shortly.
