We live in a house we bought when our children were young. We scoped out good schools, drove around many neighborhoods, even made an offer on a house down the street (which we backed out of when they countered for a $1500 increase in the asking price - we'd found this one and fallen in.love with it and were happy to have a legal and graceful way out of the other deal), and finally chose the one we're in now.
It's a home. We've celebrated many many family occasions here - a full 23 years of them. We've been here 24, but COVID. Anyway, it was built in 1976. Our city was growing quickly, and demand outpaced supply of single family homes. Subdivisions sprouted where there was land. Our house is on the north side of the city, in a nice, middle class (albeit rather uninspiring, architecturally) neighborhood. The contractor was busy. And from what we've discovered, first hand and often to the tune of thousands of dollars each discovery, he cut corners. Wherever he could.
I am not a violent person, but at this point if I met him on the street and was in the just the wrong frame of mind, I'd be of a mind to punch him in the throat. He cut corners where you could see them, and in places invisible until something goes wrong. And something always goes wrong, eventually.
The week before Christmas we discovered yet another hot water leak, this time under the master shower. Said shower is tiled, custom. It doesn't take much imagination to know that accessing, repairing, then dealing with the aesthetics would be a nightmare. Again. This leak numbers 4 in a long series spanning the last 13 years, and has proven to be the most extensive and expensive to date. We verified the location of the leak, then started working through the logic. At the end of a very long day, after considering all options, including recognizing this pattern of failure in the system would continue unless we took drastic action, we decided to reroute the hot water supply to the house.
What does that mean, exactly? That means replacing the old hot water system - from hot water heater through piping - in the entire house. And routing that new piping up through the attic. Which involves many steps including cutting rectangles of drywall out of the ceiling and walls around areas that require hot water - think bathroom sinks, showers, kitchen sink, laundry room, etc. Suffice to say we have a butt ton of rectangles cut out of our drywall right now. A husband and wife drywall repair team are here as I write this, beginning the process of repair, taping, texturing, etc.
Having your sanctuary violated, repeatedly, with saws, large humans hauling, routing, insulating and manipulating hundreds of feet of pex pipe, well, it's hard. And the weird after stuff..well, the tiny bits of nasty old insulation that have been filtering down out of the attic into our living/breathing/sleeping space has creeped me out. I have become obsessive about shaking out blankets, brushing off surfaces before sitting, and dusting incessantly to just keep up with it. <shiver> I may need a little tune up therapy after this one, I'm sayin.
When all is said and done we'll have contributed to the improvement of the plumbing infrastructure of the house, which is a good thing. Spending thousands of dollars on doing the right thing that never gets seen but is simply part of the workings of the house is a little weird. But it had to be done.
So now I sit in my study, masked, and write about the surreal last week and a half while the repair team begins its work. And hope that this really nasty, stinky, fungus filled sneaker sock of a year is done with us. Because if there is ever a time to lose perspective it's at the end of what can only be referred to as a year of Hell. Things like this are always hard, but when we factor in all aspects of the virus that's currently whipping our asses, it's a little too much for even this girl to handle.
Fortunately, the support of good friends, qi gong, square breathing, meditation, long walks in the sun help. But I can say, I am not going dry anytime soon. That evening glass of cab or pinot can be just the balm for the frazzled nerve endings that keeps me from completely losing my shit.
That is all for now. I wish you a warm and Happy New Year, with the promise of a better year ahead and at the bottom of it all, a conviction that we are so much stronger than we think we are and that in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds we can become our best selves.
Huge hugs, Stevie
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