If this post isn’t 100 percent coherent or perfectly spelled, it’s because my friend L and I just celebrated with bloody Marys (and I didn’t make either of them as “lite” as she requested). Work this afternoon is going to be … interesting. One year ago today, at precisely this hour, I dragged my U-Haul trailer into town after a trip that was more eventful than I might have wished, but ended well with a little help from my friends. I paused at the title company long enough to sign papers. I popped into the real estate office to pick…
Category: Home improvement
Since I was five years old, I wanted a house with one of these. On the outside, it’s a door knocker, which nobody these days would ever think to use … On the inside, it’s a portal that opens to lets the person outside declare themselves friend or foe. You know: “Joe sent me” (I could run a speakeasy!) or, “The eagle flies at midnight” (I could be a spy!) … I was thrilled when my new-old house came with one in its front door. Alas, after having this brass relic for one year, less three days, my potential careers…
There’s a man in this town who used to be a respected professional with a high-toned name. Now, thanks to decades of bad choices, all he has is his pride and three luxury automobiles he long ago relinquished the “privilege” of driving. And that toney name. Recently, a building he owned fell into such disrepair that the city condemned it and tore it down at his expense. My kind-hearted friend L., who mother-hens this man (and is apparently one of the only friends he has left), urged him to go in with her or let her go in with some…
August 20 is Lemonade Freedom Day. “Because selling lemonade is not a crime. (H/T C^2) The Farmer Veteran Coalition. Beats the heck out of them coming back and joining the LAPD or the Podunkville “finest of the finest” SWAT team. (Thanking J. for this one) Yes, your dog really is reading your mind. (P 🙂 ) Are you the addictive type? Sez here you might be leadership material. From Ellendra in a recent comment section who says, (finally) “even the Wall Street Journal is starting to notice” that there are too many federal laws and regulations. And that the feds…
I promised a longer review of Atlas Shrugged for this weekend. This isn’t it. Sorry. I was going to write it today. Really I was. Then I woke up at an ungodly hour brimming with energy. Nearly ran up the stairs to the garret, where I mudded, sanded, primed, painted, and painted some more. Midday, I noticed — OMG! — the sun is shining. Actually shining! So I grabbed a cup of tea intending to sit on the back deck throwing a ball for Ava and petting the big dogs. After 10 minutes of sitting, an irresistible urge came on…
My living room doesn’t normally look like this … But I just returned from a moving sale with all this loot: swivel recliner and hassock, seven-foot fiberglass step-ladder with paint shelf, wooden folding table, tin snips, two caulk guns, two rolls of self-adhesive drywall tape (unopened), gas can, large full bottle of Rain-X, super-duper adjustable drywall square, baby gate, two rugs, door mat, four-foot bubble level, never-used handmade afghan, doggie bistro, flexi-leash with scoop bag attachment, 100 feet of nylon rope (unopened), heavy-duty extension cord, hacksaw, etc. etc. etc. Oh yeah, and one beach chair with two attachable umbrellas. Looks…
After yesterday, I’ve concluded that manual labor is too much like work. We writers are prone to get all whiny about what tough jobs we have and how we suffer for our Art. But I tell you, by the end of the day yesterday, if I’d have had to haul one more slab of drywall up that narrow, twisty attic stair, I’d have sat down on the steps and cried. —– Ten years ago I drywalled Cabin Sweet Cabin by myself (except for the ceiling, where I assisted somebody else). So I thought “piece of cake!” when I merely faced…
Or what I did while not blogging yesterday. I need a Ouija board. Or a medium. Yeah, a seance is in order. I really, seriously need to have a talk with the ghosts of the long-dead folks who built this house! I’ve got hard questions for those old haunts. I mentioned the other day that the living room floor had already surprised me with an “issue” as I prepared to rip the wall-to-wall carpet out. You old-house mavens told me what I was about to encounter. You were right — as far as that went. Today was the day the…
What would you do? The upstairs room needs a new floor. It’s going to be laminate. I’ve found exactly the flooring I want for $1.89 per square foot at a tiny family-run business in my town. Obviously, there are cheaper laminates. And more expensive ones. But this is a good product at a modest price and it’s the type that already has the underlayment attached. So not bad. I’ve looked for it online and, once you factor in shipping, the local price is competitive. But. I can drive 90 miles to a chain store and get the same stuff for…
Sometimes ya got it, sometimes ya ain’t. The deep part of winter — my first back in the NorthWET — wasn’t bad. But late winter and spring are dragging on like the worst of January. Cold. Gloomy. Eternally wet. I can’t remember the last time I saw sun. I have vague recollections of spotting blue sky last week, nuking a cup of tea with the intention of sitting on the deck — then discovering it to be pouring rain when I walked out the door. I went to the hardware store yesterday and bought yellow paint for the garret room…