Wednesday, June 30, 2004
The other night the tree fella came over to give me an estimate on pruning the dead wood out of the bigleaf maple, and we talked about the mulch moat that should go around the tree as protection during construction. It so happens he had some mulch already in the truck, and before I knew it there were 3 cubic yards of the stuff in my driveway and lots of wheelbarrow action til nightfall. (I'm still sore.)
About every evening is like that: If I don't have something to do already, someone shows up with a job. Like when my real estate agent came over and implied my house wasn't selling because of the carpet. There went a couple evenings pulling out carpet tacks in the dining room hardwood floor.
But I'm still having fun, even though I feel I've entered the most mind-numbing phase of the deal: talking to bankers. It's so hard wrapping my mind around all the numbers, terms, and whatever hidden surprises might surface on the paper once I get ready to sign. Plus, I've got a bunch of possible scenarios, thinking maybe I should build one house at a time (but which one?) or just building one at all (Mabel, of course!), or selling the Galusha lot, or just going for it with the 2-house construction blitz. One thing's for sure: I go to Coronado with an armload of data, a calculator, and come back with a plan.
Meanwhile, I've finally set the move party for July 10, which will put an end to my traipsing back and forth. Just eating breakfast and getting dressed in the morning calls for a couple of trips, now that the fridge is over there and one closet of clothes.
I can't wait to move in there. It's a darling place, and the paint colors the Grok God picked are perfect. With the place so small, each color forms a complementary background to the other, and you get this marvelous sense of traveling through a kaleidoscope as you pass through rooms.
About every evening is like that: If I don't have something to do already, someone shows up with a job. Like when my real estate agent came over and implied my house wasn't selling because of the carpet. There went a couple evenings pulling out carpet tacks in the dining room hardwood floor.
But I'm still having fun, even though I feel I've entered the most mind-numbing phase of the deal: talking to bankers. It's so hard wrapping my mind around all the numbers, terms, and whatever hidden surprises might surface on the paper once I get ready to sign. Plus, I've got a bunch of possible scenarios, thinking maybe I should build one house at a time (but which one?) or just building one at all (Mabel, of course!), or selling the Galusha lot, or just going for it with the 2-house construction blitz. One thing's for sure: I go to Coronado with an armload of data, a calculator, and come back with a plan.
Meanwhile, I've finally set the move party for July 10, which will put an end to my traipsing back and forth. Just eating breakfast and getting dressed in the morning calls for a couple of trips, now that the fridge is over there and one closet of clothes.
I can't wait to move in there. It's a darling place, and the paint colors the Grok God picked are perfect. With the place so small, each color forms a complementary background to the other, and you get this marvelous sense of traveling through a kaleidoscope as you pass through rooms.
Tuesday, June 22, 2004
Well, it's not one of the better starts to the development week. I've been having trouble getting all my painting done, so every day I rush home from work and get started. And then I paint til the sun sets and the moon rises and the cats come out to prowl. Just last weekend, when I thought I could get it all done, I didn't -- despite putting about 20 hours into it.
So I'm a bit stressed out. Then yesterday I go home to find two nuisance notices stapled to the rail of Construction Headquarters. For having tall grass (excuse me, but some of that is Brussels sprout _forest_) and, get this, "rat harborage." I decide to go to work on the trim anyway, because I have to, and experience one of my most spectacular paint spills ever, all over the new marmoleum. What a beautiful day!
Now I'm waiting for the city inspector to call back and hoping I get as much time to address the grievance as, say, the operators of the meth house did across the street. They got a couple years; I just need some months.
I also need something good to happen soon.
So I'm a bit stressed out. Then yesterday I go home to find two nuisance notices stapled to the rail of Construction Headquarters. For having tall grass (excuse me, but some of that is Brussels sprout _forest_) and, get this, "rat harborage." I decide to go to work on the trim anyway, because I have to, and experience one of my most spectacular paint spills ever, all over the new marmoleum. What a beautiful day!
Now I'm waiting for the city inspector to call back and hoping I get as much time to address the grievance as, say, the operators of the meth house did across the street. They got a couple years; I just need some months.
I also need something good to happen soon.
Wednesday, June 09, 2004
Here's the weird thing: It seems like nothing is happening, and everything is happening.
Out of all the active inertia, some details shine thru: Namely, I think we've got the structural engineer on board. He's all excited about this Dow product that makes a sandwich of styrofoam and concrete for the walls. It sounds ideal, but I need to find out more.
Construction Headquarters is meandering along toward completion. I got a toilet and dishwasher yesterday, so that pretty much gives the green light for move-in.
The Grok God and his elf came over Saturday to do the paint treatment in the living room and dining room. It was a lot of fun doing it, but the results? Terrible. Now we have to fix it. But, as I told the Grok God, Don't worry, I have lots and lots of time and money, ha. I wish we'd just left it alone.
Already, I've learned so much. And then there's the tasks that give me total bouts of nostalgia. Like varnishing the newly dipped door to the kitchen: Suddenly there I am back in Helena, as a kid, working alongside Mom and Dad to renew what had been a crumbling, subdivided Victorian. We all had plaster dust in our hair, fingers sticky with stain, and urethane fumes in our lungs. Slowly, the home's soul revealed itself, and we were happy.
Out of all the active inertia, some details shine thru: Namely, I think we've got the structural engineer on board. He's all excited about this Dow product that makes a sandwich of styrofoam and concrete for the walls. It sounds ideal, but I need to find out more.
Construction Headquarters is meandering along toward completion. I got a toilet and dishwasher yesterday, so that pretty much gives the green light for move-in.
The Grok God and his elf came over Saturday to do the paint treatment in the living room and dining room. It was a lot of fun doing it, but the results? Terrible. Now we have to fix it. But, as I told the Grok God, Don't worry, I have lots and lots of time and money, ha. I wish we'd just left it alone.
Already, I've learned so much. And then there's the tasks that give me total bouts of nostalgia. Like varnishing the newly dipped door to the kitchen: Suddenly there I am back in Helena, as a kid, working alongside Mom and Dad to renew what had been a crumbling, subdivided Victorian. We all had plaster dust in our hair, fingers sticky with stain, and urethane fumes in our lungs. Slowly, the home's soul revealed itself, and we were happy.
