There is no point in postponing this any further; we are going to go ahead and have a house party in a week or so.
Monica-Sophie is presently in South Korea and will be in town for a couple of days before leaving for Budapest, possibly up to a year; Valérie will also be here 9in fact, she's been here all summer), so this seems like the best time to invite people over, whether the house is messy or not.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
A Favorite Place (08-14-10)
When I take a walk down the alley to the front of the property, I like to stop at this small shady paved area.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
The Rose Garden (07-10-10)
Friday, July 2, 2010
Remodeling by Intuition? (07-02-10)
I hired a team to work under the house to shore up the posts, and as they set out to crawl under the house this morning, I suddenly had a real bad, creepy, feeling that something bad may happen, a feeling of dread that kept on increasing with time. So I made the contractor stop and told him that I felt uncomfortable with them being under the house. The poor guy looked totally baffled. But I felt much better once they were out of the crawlspace and gone.
I can't figure out if I an apprehensive about spending money (all the money we'd set aside for improvements is spoken for), if it is about this particular team doing the work, or if it is because the crawlspace had been sprayed with pesticide only the day before, and I am concerned about any residual fumes... Most worrisome: could it be one of those premonitions I get every once in a while, that something bad may happen..?
I can't figure out if I an apprehensive about spending money (all the money we'd set aside for improvements is spoken for), if it is about this particular team doing the work, or if it is because the crawlspace had been sprayed with pesticide only the day before, and I am concerned about any residual fumes... Most worrisome: could it be one of those premonitions I get every once in a while, that something bad may happen..?
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Fiction Writing Exercise (06-24-10)
I wrote this fictional text with a certain house in mind...:
Sadie had spent days sweeping and mopping floors, opening boxes of once important things that now seemed pointless to hang on to, and she could tell the adversary was formidable. The house was malevolent. Not your evil-horror-movie-house malevolent, but insidious and discreet about its evilness. Despite her scrubbing them with scouring cleaner, baking soda, and even alcohol, she had been unsuccessful at removing the many smudge marks from the walls. It seemed that only paint would cover the damage.
She had encountered various noxious creatures: ants, tiny ones who had invaded her sugar containers, as well as the more destructive carpenter ants, and even the occasional spider, huge and hairy. She wouldn’t even be surprised if, getting up one morning, she found a scorpion curled up inside her slippers.
Another Day with Contractors Over (06-24-10)
I have lost track of how many contractors and/or workers have been over since we moved in. Whether it is roof, gutter, foundation, or insulation, somebody's come over to look at it. I may post a sign by the mailbox: House With Problems Straight Up the Driveway. And Bring Yer Own Flashlight and Measuring Tape this Time.
In the case of the foundation, if five contractors have been over to inspect the underside of the house, there have been that many opinions about the state of the foundation. These people all seem to describe a different house, ranging from shrugged dismissal, the age of the house given as an explanation for its shabby state, to manic smiles in anticipation of a fortune made to bring everything to 21st century standards, to paranoid rants about how one should be paid to even look at anything like that. Yet, there is never any mention of the issues that had been pointed out in the house inspection report (repairs Mrs. Previous Owner promised to do, but didn't).
And when one of these guys goes under the house, it's not like I can really tell him that I'll be in the house, and to just let me know when he's done. No; there is a sort of unspoken expectation that I will be standing by the side of the porch leading to the crawlspace, and kill time while whomever is crawling about under the house. Some guys like an audience and talk away the whole time (inaudible muffled sounds coming from under the house)... There I am, patiently standing by the opening under the porch, thinking of how to muster dinner out of what may or may not be in the refrigerator, or looking for weeds to pull by my feet, while nodding and making sounds of agreement to whatever he may be saying.
When he comes out, and rattles on about whatever repair he thinks is necessary, I try to look interested, but pinch my hands behind my back as I hear the keywords that trigger yawning reflexes: posts, piers, cinder blocks, etc. Then I ask inane questions, like were there spiders under the house? Little spiders, or giant ones? How about rats? Any carpenter ants?
In the case of the foundation, if five contractors have been over to inspect the underside of the house, there have been that many opinions about the state of the foundation. These people all seem to describe a different house, ranging from shrugged dismissal, the age of the house given as an explanation for its shabby state, to manic smiles in anticipation of a fortune made to bring everything to 21st century standards, to paranoid rants about how one should be paid to even look at anything like that. Yet, there is never any mention of the issues that had been pointed out in the house inspection report (repairs Mrs. Previous Owner promised to do, but didn't).
And when one of these guys goes under the house, it's not like I can really tell him that I'll be in the house, and to just let me know when he's done. No; there is a sort of unspoken expectation that I will be standing by the side of the porch leading to the crawlspace, and kill time while whomever is crawling about under the house. Some guys like an audience and talk away the whole time (inaudible muffled sounds coming from under the house)... There I am, patiently standing by the opening under the porch, thinking of how to muster dinner out of what may or may not be in the refrigerator, or looking for weeds to pull by my feet, while nodding and making sounds of agreement to whatever he may be saying.
When he comes out, and rattles on about whatever repair he thinks is necessary, I try to look interested, but pinch my hands behind my back as I hear the keywords that trigger yawning reflexes: posts, piers, cinder blocks, etc. Then I ask inane questions, like were there spiders under the house? Little spiders, or giant ones? How about rats? Any carpenter ants?
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Too Much Rain (06-10-10)
My days are spent on the phone, calling contractors.
We can’t repair the gutters because the roof eaves they are braced to is totally crumbling (dry rot and suspicious ants in the vicinity); we can’t repair the roof eaves because there is an electrical conduit with live wires braced to them; we can’t move the electrical conduit (not up to code) because the electrician needs to come brace it up to the exterior wall, etc.
In the meantime, whenever it rains, I watch water pouring out from the gutters and going straight into an opening under the house where there is no foundation wall...
We can’t repair the gutters because the roof eaves they are braced to is totally crumbling (dry rot and suspicious ants in the vicinity); we can’t repair the roof eaves because there is an electrical conduit with live wires braced to them; we can’t move the electrical conduit (not up to code) because the electrician needs to come brace it up to the exterior wall, etc.
In the meantime, whenever it rains, I watch water pouring out from the gutters and going straight into an opening under the house where there is no foundation wall...
My Octopus Window (06-10-10)
...Here are some photos of the window Jennifer Hanson made for our house since the other one was too small for the window frame. The window is in the bathroom upstairs now and looks superb, especially from outside at night.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
The Homeowner's Lament (06-09-10)
A poem by Pascale Steig
Found a house, at last
Charm abounds everywhere
It sits on a hill.
Yellow wood siding,
A nice porch to while time away
On warm summer days
Wake up to the light
Filtering through old stained glass
Lavender, red, green, amber
To rest, -Home at last-
And finally settle in,
Unpack my boxes
Secret garden spots
It is ours now, all of it
Plants, shrubs, flowers, trees.
Glorious spring blooms
Peonies, roses and more:
Endless surprises.
Water runs downhill
Rainy weather, soggy ground:
Endless surprises.
Alas! Rain; more rain!
Water pours under the house,
A river, a lake…
Crumbling foundation
Carpenter ants, -worse: spiders-
Problems all around
A mess to fix;
“Sell it before it’s too late,”
Says one contractor
“Don’t think about it -
It’s been here a hundred years,”
Says another one.
I try to fix it
I paint it; I buy windows:
Presents for the house
I want to tame it:
The cantankerous old house
Hides its beauty well.
Found a house, at last
Charm abounds everywhere
It sits on a hill.
Yellow wood siding,
A nice porch to while time away
On warm summer days
Wake up to the light
Filtering through old stained glass
Lavender, red, green, amber
To rest, -Home at last-
And finally settle in,
Unpack my boxes
Secret garden spots
It is ours now, all of it
Plants, shrubs, flowers, trees.
Glorious spring blooms
Peonies, roses and more:
Endless surprises.
Water runs downhill
Rainy weather, soggy ground:
Endless surprises.
Alas! Rain; more rain!
Water pours under the house,
A river, a lake…
Crumbling foundation
Carpenter ants, -worse: spiders-
Problems all around
A mess to fix;
“Sell it before it’s too late,”
Says one contractor
“Don’t think about it -
It’s been here a hundred years,”
Says another one.
I try to fix it
I paint it; I buy windows:
Presents for the house
I want to tame it:
The cantankerous old house
Hides its beauty well.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
The Removal of the "Lump of Dirt" (06-08-10)
It's been driving me crazy to look out the living room or the dining room window, and to see the stupid eyesore of a mini-mountain covered with weeds behind the house! According to neighborhood gossip, it was erected when the previous owner's old father dumped the dirt that was excavated when the green house was built next door (insert the crazy vision of an old man pushing wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow of dirt up the driveway, through the carport, by the garden area, to the back of the house...). We finally got rid of our "lump of dirt" and the dingy concrete pad touching the house, and had the land leveled. This was no small task; the tractor had to be brought in through the neighbor's driveway because there was no other access from our side, and three huge dump trucks' worth of dirt and one truck's worth of concrete were hauled away...
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| "Before" view: dirt partially removed, concrete pad in foreground. |
 |
| Pretty funny, the guy talking on the phone; note the little boy watching. |
 |
| View of the shed and family room. |
 |
| View of the family room and the back of the house. |
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| "After" view of the back of the house. |
The Toxic Couch: Part Three (06-08-10)
My project was not going well. After letting everything fester under the carport for weeks, I convinced Gary to rent a Rug Doctor, so I could try my hands at a last ditch effort to rescue my couch and recliner.
I decided to treat the stinky mattress first. It was a nice, thick mattress; it looked comfortable and clearly had never been used before (by a human). Unfortunately, it had been in contact with the rusted springs inside the sofa and had been contaminated with the same sour smell as everything else. I laid it down on an old shower curtain on the lawn, and scrubbed the heck out of it. I then left it to dry on the green lush lawn, hoping that the fresh spring air would do wonders for it. There was nothing else to do for it but wait... Next, I scrubbed the sofa and the recliner. The leather responded beautifully, springing back into shape, a testimony to quality materials. But the dark places which had been stained and damaged, once wet, had the same sticky gummy feel as the cushion covers; the leather was rotten.
All those efforts were for nothing in the end; the repulsive smell oozed and wafted from the couch, mattress and recliner, no matter what.
The last episode in this saga: I reluctantly took everything to the dump. As I was driving away from the huge bays, I turned around and got a last glance of the couch without its cushions, with a mountain of trash all around, as a bulldozer was advancing in its direction.
RIP beautiful couch.
I drove the car to the exit window, paid the dump fee and briefly told my woes to the lady at the window. She laughed and said "I always tell people; you gotta give it the sniff test before you buy it!"
I decided to treat the stinky mattress first. It was a nice, thick mattress; it looked comfortable and clearly had never been used before (by a human). Unfortunately, it had been in contact with the rusted springs inside the sofa and had been contaminated with the same sour smell as everything else. I laid it down on an old shower curtain on the lawn, and scrubbed the heck out of it. I then left it to dry on the green lush lawn, hoping that the fresh spring air would do wonders for it. There was nothing else to do for it but wait... Next, I scrubbed the sofa and the recliner. The leather responded beautifully, springing back into shape, a testimony to quality materials. But the dark places which had been stained and damaged, once wet, had the same sticky gummy feel as the cushion covers; the leather was rotten.
All those efforts were for nothing in the end; the repulsive smell oozed and wafted from the couch, mattress and recliner, no matter what.
The last episode in this saga: I reluctantly took everything to the dump. As I was driving away from the huge bays, I turned around and got a last glance of the couch without its cushions, with a mountain of trash all around, as a bulldozer was advancing in its direction.
RIP beautiful couch.
I drove the car to the exit window, paid the dump fee and briefly told my woes to the lady at the window. She laughed and said "I always tell people; you gotta give it the sniff test before you buy it!"
Monday, June 7, 2010
Mosaic Glass Windows (06-07-10)
I decided to post some photos of the absolutely gorgeous mosaic glass windows made by Jennifer Hanson. I found the window with the hand, the window with the flowers and the wide sun window at Portico. The cherry tree and the small sun windows were on display at Houlton Bakery in St Helens. Jennifer made two smaller windows for the master bedroom in a crazy mosaic patterns to match the colors of the "real" stained glass windows. She also made a large window with a big octopus for the upstairs bathroom (the photo of the octopus window below is similar to mine).
Sunday, June 6, 2010
My Closet Palace (06-06-10)
My closet is finally finished. It's so big, it's more a dressing room than a closet; I could lie down on the rug to meditate or read a book.
We got the clothes rack, the cute red bookcase and the dresser at Ikea. The antique mirror belonged to my mother and is a replacement for the big mirror with a blue wooden frame that fell and broke at our previous house. The big black trunk came from Village Merchants. The rug and the floor lamp in the far corner both came from the local Goodwill outlet store. The floor lamp was rewired by Hippo Hardware; the small candle lights were outfitted with specialty flickering light bulbs for an added fun touch. I bought the crazy chandelier in Belgium, but it is essentially a novelty deco item made in China; it used to hang in my closet at the old house. The gorgeous mosaic glass windows were made by Jennifer Hanson; my favorite is the one with the hand, and the colors of the sun window work perfectly with the room's color scheme.
We got the clothes rack, the cute red bookcase and the dresser at Ikea. The antique mirror belonged to my mother and is a replacement for the big mirror with a blue wooden frame that fell and broke at our previous house. The big black trunk came from Village Merchants. The rug and the floor lamp in the far corner both came from the local Goodwill outlet store. The floor lamp was rewired by Hippo Hardware; the small candle lights were outfitted with specialty flickering light bulbs for an added fun touch. I bought the crazy chandelier in Belgium, but it is essentially a novelty deco item made in China; it used to hang in my closet at the old house. The gorgeous mosaic glass windows were made by Jennifer Hanson; my favorite is the one with the hand, and the colors of the sun window work perfectly with the room's color scheme.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
I bought a cherry tree! (05-29-10)
I can't help it, I love cherries...often eating them till I feel miserably sick (I once ate 5 lb)...
To satisfy my annual lust for cherries, I ordered a Compact Stella tree from One Green World Nursery.
We already have a huge cherry tree on the property, but it is so tall that the branches are out of reach of even a 20-ft ladder.
To satisfy my annual lust for cherries, I ordered a Compact Stella tree from One Green World Nursery.
We already have a huge cherry tree on the property, but it is so tall that the branches are out of reach of even a 20-ft ladder.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Work has started on the shed (05-27-10)
After days of agonizing over it, I finally decided to hire the artist carpenter since he was available when I was ready to get started with the project.
We decided to focus on fixing the base structure at this point, to get it ready for pest control treatment and insulation. So far, he removed the damaged wood boards (carpenter ants), replaced them with new ones, and installed the French doors I bought at the Rebuilding Center. So here are some before and after photos of this work in progress.
We decided to focus on fixing the base structure at this point, to get it ready for pest control treatment and insulation. So far, he removed the damaged wood boards (carpenter ants), replaced them with new ones, and installed the French doors I bought at the Rebuilding Center. So here are some before and after photos of this work in progress.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Wanted: A Competent Contractor (05-12-10)
My days are spent trying to get contractors to give me estimates to make the shed usable as an art studio to spread my art supplies around. There is no middle ground; contractors are like day and night.
An upscale-looking remodeling website recommended this contractor based on my zip code. Right off, when I see that this gentleman specializes in Lake Oswego and West Linn remodel, I doubt that my modest project will be worth his attention… In any case, he comes promptly with his dad, a retired architect. Both are dressed in business casual, and, with similar perfectly creased pants and matching shirt, look so much alike that I can’t help repeatedly cast surreptitious glances from the father to the son during the visit. Rather than give pertinent directions as to what I am expecting from the project, all I can do is distractedly point to the inside of the shed and lamely say that I want it, you know, “nice.” They walk around the inside of the shed, take notes on a legal-sized pad, nod their head in unison, and promptly leave with the promise of an estimate... Neither ever calls back.
According to my real estate agent, this guy is a true artist who worked on various local artsy projects on a regular basis. He looks like a nice quiet young guy, but seems to be pretty bummed out due to some recent losses in his life. He explains what could be done to turn the shed into a really cool building and seems knowledgeable about how go about to achieve that result. The problem is that he doesn’t have any tools at the moment, and neither do we; I am not sure how this problem can be overcome. He sends me a rather vague text estimate via his cell phone.
The day I find a crudely printed black and white flyer in my mailbox praising the merits of this contractor, I am particularly fed up with deciphering Yellow Pages ads in tiny print, so I call him, my heart full of hope. He seems competent enough, but I am not sure he understands what I mean by "an artistic look, like in North Portland," using materials from the Rebuilding Center. The blank look I get in return and his immediate naming a nearby suburban home improvement center as a perfect source for materials suggests that he does not, in fact, know what I am talking about. As I ponder whether this guy has ever been anywhere outside of suburbia, he clears his throat and spits something huge on the gravel outside the shed... (My mental picture of my perfect little shed is now jarred by the presence of pools of spit…). His high estimate confirms my determination to not hire him.
Many times, one relies on a network of people who recommend people who did a great job, etc. This contractor, a smiling, happy-go-lucky type, comes with high recommendations. His estimate is very affordable, but I am not sure he understands the scope of the project, despite my best efforts to overcome the language barrier. When I mention getting recycled materials, he suggests vinyl windows, then shouts "No problem!" when I object. In fact, he keeps interjecting "No problem!" for every issue we may find, be they carpenter ants or structural beam that need strengthening. This is a man with vision. He gesticulates, waves his arms around; we could move over that wall, remove the siding; we could even tear down the building and build a new one! Despite his contagious enthusiasm, deep inside I suspect that there will be problems down the road...
Again, the homeowner benefits from using references, and references from other contractors are valuable. This guy exudes a quiet self-assurance in his capabilities, seems competent and immediately comes up with sound solutions to eventual issues we may encounter. He clearly knows what he is talking about and asks me to give him a chance to prove his skills. As I finally think I may have found the right person for the job and I see my charming little art shed taking concrete shape in my mind, I get an email from him. His high estimate is distressing; I just can't afford him.
So, it looks like I will either pull my hair over costs, or pull my hair over having to babysit someone all the way...
An upscale-looking remodeling website recommended this contractor based on my zip code. Right off, when I see that this gentleman specializes in Lake Oswego and West Linn remodel, I doubt that my modest project will be worth his attention… In any case, he comes promptly with his dad, a retired architect. Both are dressed in business casual, and, with similar perfectly creased pants and matching shirt, look so much alike that I can’t help repeatedly cast surreptitious glances from the father to the son during the visit. Rather than give pertinent directions as to what I am expecting from the project, all I can do is distractedly point to the inside of the shed and lamely say that I want it, you know, “nice.” They walk around the inside of the shed, take notes on a legal-sized pad, nod their head in unison, and promptly leave with the promise of an estimate... Neither ever calls back.
According to my real estate agent, this guy is a true artist who worked on various local artsy projects on a regular basis. He looks like a nice quiet young guy, but seems to be pretty bummed out due to some recent losses in his life. He explains what could be done to turn the shed into a really cool building and seems knowledgeable about how go about to achieve that result. The problem is that he doesn’t have any tools at the moment, and neither do we; I am not sure how this problem can be overcome. He sends me a rather vague text estimate via his cell phone.
The day I find a crudely printed black and white flyer in my mailbox praising the merits of this contractor, I am particularly fed up with deciphering Yellow Pages ads in tiny print, so I call him, my heart full of hope. He seems competent enough, but I am not sure he understands what I mean by "an artistic look, like in North Portland," using materials from the Rebuilding Center. The blank look I get in return and his immediate naming a nearby suburban home improvement center as a perfect source for materials suggests that he does not, in fact, know what I am talking about. As I ponder whether this guy has ever been anywhere outside of suburbia, he clears his throat and spits something huge on the gravel outside the shed... (My mental picture of my perfect little shed is now jarred by the presence of pools of spit…). His high estimate confirms my determination to not hire him.
Many times, one relies on a network of people who recommend people who did a great job, etc. This contractor, a smiling, happy-go-lucky type, comes with high recommendations. His estimate is very affordable, but I am not sure he understands the scope of the project, despite my best efforts to overcome the language barrier. When I mention getting recycled materials, he suggests vinyl windows, then shouts "No problem!" when I object. In fact, he keeps interjecting "No problem!" for every issue we may find, be they carpenter ants or structural beam that need strengthening. This is a man with vision. He gesticulates, waves his arms around; we could move over that wall, remove the siding; we could even tear down the building and build a new one! Despite his contagious enthusiasm, deep inside I suspect that there will be problems down the road...
Again, the homeowner benefits from using references, and references from other contractors are valuable. This guy exudes a quiet self-assurance in his capabilities, seems competent and immediately comes up with sound solutions to eventual issues we may encounter. He clearly knows what he is talking about and asks me to give him a chance to prove his skills. As I finally think I may have found the right person for the job and I see my charming little art shed taking concrete shape in my mind, I get an email from him. His high estimate is distressing; I just can't afford him.
So, it looks like I will either pull my hair over costs, or pull my hair over having to babysit someone all the way...
Monday, May 10, 2010
The Toxic Couch: Part Two (05-10-10)
Now, you may ask, what does NOT work on a cat-stench-infected high-end leather sofa bed and recliner bought on Craigslist? Here is the answer, from direct experience: Febreze (1 bottle); Nature's Miracle (2 bottles); Biokleen (3 bottles). Add to that, a couple of big rolls of paper towels to spread the products all over the leather.
I removed the cushions from their zippered covers and took them to the laundromat, with the idea that if they were thoroughly cleaned, the problem may be resolved at last. Armed with detergent and bleach from home, I loaded three large-sized front-loading washers with the cushions. I filled the soap and bleach dispensers with what I estimated to be the required amount of liquid to deal with the situation at hand, and for good measure, I added yet more soap and bleach in each washer's dispenser. I watched as the machines filled with soapy water, and as I saw the water level rise behind the glass door, I noted with slight alarm that there was an awful lot of foam.
I was alone in the laundromat. I could see some foam pushing through the soap dispenser door on the top of one of the washers; I tried to wipe if off with my hand, but the foam was coming through anyway. A card on the wall behind the washers said that the place was under surveillance 24 hours a day. A glance to my left confirmed the presence of a camera overhead. I casually walked over to the thrash can by a folding table and pulled out an old pair of jeans that had been tossed away.
The foam had worked its way through the dispenser door and was now pulsating down the front and side of the washer and pooling on the floor. I tried to wipe everything, like it was just no big deal, once in a while glancing at the camera overhead. As I was busy wiping, I caught sight of mountains of foam cascading out of reach, at the back of the washer and the one next to it... Needless to say, once my load was done and the cushions had gone through a dryer cycle, I was out of there in no time.
But the cushions had come through with flying colors. They were clean and smell-free. There was hope, after all.
Filled with visions of myself sitting on my luxury distressed leather couch and telling people about my good fortune ("Would you believe, I got this $4,000 Restoration Hardware set on Craigslist of all places!), and bolstered by my success with the cushions, I decided that I might as well also take the leather cushion covers to the laundromat.
I walked in like an old pro, put detergent in the dispenser, inserted money and washed them, three times for good measure. I stood in front of the machine like it was perfectly normal to have this unappealing, even gross, stuff churning inside, and watched the yellow-brown water swirl about behind the glass, every turn of the drum causing a shot of brown color to ooze into the foam. Once done, I carefully stretched the wet covers and ran them through a gentle dryer cycle.
But despite the thorough washes, the part of the cushions that had been at the back of the sofa and recliner still smelled awful and rank and was gummy and sticky to the touch and stained my fingers with an oily substance I tried wiping on my jeans. When I got home, I asked Gary to help me gently stretch the covers, to then let them air dry on a chair in the sun. Cripes and aggravation! Inadvertently pulling too hard on one of the gummy corners caused the leather to tear!
I removed the cushions from their zippered covers and took them to the laundromat, with the idea that if they were thoroughly cleaned, the problem may be resolved at last. Armed with detergent and bleach from home, I loaded three large-sized front-loading washers with the cushions. I filled the soap and bleach dispensers with what I estimated to be the required amount of liquid to deal with the situation at hand, and for good measure, I added yet more soap and bleach in each washer's dispenser. I watched as the machines filled with soapy water, and as I saw the water level rise behind the glass door, I noted with slight alarm that there was an awful lot of foam.
I was alone in the laundromat. I could see some foam pushing through the soap dispenser door on the top of one of the washers; I tried to wipe if off with my hand, but the foam was coming through anyway. A card on the wall behind the washers said that the place was under surveillance 24 hours a day. A glance to my left confirmed the presence of a camera overhead. I casually walked over to the thrash can by a folding table and pulled out an old pair of jeans that had been tossed away.
The foam had worked its way through the dispenser door and was now pulsating down the front and side of the washer and pooling on the floor. I tried to wipe everything, like it was just no big deal, once in a while glancing at the camera overhead. As I was busy wiping, I caught sight of mountains of foam cascading out of reach, at the back of the washer and the one next to it... Needless to say, once my load was done and the cushions had gone through a dryer cycle, I was out of there in no time.
But the cushions had come through with flying colors. They were clean and smell-free. There was hope, after all.
Filled with visions of myself sitting on my luxury distressed leather couch and telling people about my good fortune ("Would you believe, I got this $4,000 Restoration Hardware set on Craigslist of all places!), and bolstered by my success with the cushions, I decided that I might as well also take the leather cushion covers to the laundromat.
I walked in like an old pro, put detergent in the dispenser, inserted money and washed them, three times for good measure. I stood in front of the machine like it was perfectly normal to have this unappealing, even gross, stuff churning inside, and watched the yellow-brown water swirl about behind the glass, every turn of the drum causing a shot of brown color to ooze into the foam. Once done, I carefully stretched the wet covers and ran them through a gentle dryer cycle.
But despite the thorough washes, the part of the cushions that had been at the back of the sofa and recliner still smelled awful and rank and was gummy and sticky to the touch and stained my fingers with an oily substance I tried wiping on my jeans. When I got home, I asked Gary to help me gently stretch the covers, to then let them air dry on a chair in the sun. Cripes and aggravation! Inadvertently pulling too hard on one of the gummy corners caused the leather to tear!
Sunday, May 2, 2010
The Toxic Couch: Part One (05-02-10)
We'd given our worn out couch and loveseat away before moving, and this pair looked like a viable replacement. I insisted that Gary and I go to check them out all the way to Hillsboro despite his less than enthusiastic response when I showed him the Craigslist ad.
The house looked new and decent enough, and the guy how opened the door was friendly. Yet there was something odd about the inside. There was no carpeting in the living room; the perimeter of the room was edged with what appeared to be unswept matted pet hair. The exposed plywood was grimy and had large dark oily stains in several spots. My mind registered the incongruities, but I dismissed them when I saw the sofa bed and recliner. The set had that casual elegance of quality expensive furniture, and the leather color was a warm brown and distressed finish. I immediately liked them.
The only problem with the sofa bed and recliner, the owner said, was that the resident cat had clawed the arms extensively. But this was an expensive set he assured us; it set came from Restoration Hardware, and cost thousands of dollars. They were reluctant to part with their furniture, but hoped that by parting with it, they would be able to train the cat to not scratch the new furniture they were planning to purchase. How old is the cat, I politely asked. Twelve, he said. Again, a little warning sign flashed in my mind, but I merely chuckled at the answer, looked at Gary, and rolled my eyes at the idea that one could train a twelve year-old cat to do anything.
The guy opened the sofa bed, and, -I swear there are times when I wonder about my powers of observation-, although I noticed that he had a difficult time working the mechanism due to very visible rusting of the springs, I didn't wonder why there was rust in the first place, or why the leather was darker in some areas on the back and in the recesses of the couch... So, like a dummy, I paid the guy $160 cash. We quickly loaded the furniture in the truck and trailer under pouring rain, and off we went, Gary and I couchless no more...or so we thought.
When we got home and unloaded the pair from the trailer, as we lifted the sofa up, we got a whiff of a pervasive horrific smell. Upon close examination, we found that the inside of the sofa and the recliner had been used as toilet by an animal, most likely the same cat responsible for the scratches.
To make this sorry story short, despite weeks spent airing under the carport, the sofa and mattress were unsalvageable. They exuded the most repellent toxic fumes that made walking by them enough of an ordeal that one would prefer going around the carport rather than be exposed to the stench.
But wait! There's more!..
Our Very Own Vermin!!! (05-01-10)
Here are some photos of the disgusting carpenter ants we found in the shed.
But that wasn't all...
 |
| 1. Beam damage; 2. Remnants of nest; 3. They're back! 4. Still trying... |
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| A rat's nest! |
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Tree Work (04-21-10)
Today, surveyors from the company that had been hired to work on the lot split from 1998 came to show me where the survey posts are on the property. Watching them walk around, I realized belatedly that we could have found some of the markers ourselves with a metal detector (cash register sounds; this service will cost us close to $400). Anyway, now we know who owns what. The East-West property line runs through the large circular flowerbed near the driveway to the nextdoor neighbor’s double-wide; two-third of it is theirs. On the other hand, we do own the Shade Garden area, which I think is rather pretty with my birdbath in its middle.
While the tree hackers were back to cut down a tree next door, I cleaned up the remnants of the wisteria. A close examination revealed a lot of decay; parts of the vines are so rotten, they fall apart when touched, the wood feels moist and runny and is full of fine compost.
I also weeded part of the Rose Garden and the bare dirt areas South of the wisteria today.
At some point during the day, a lady appeared in the driveway next door and demanded to talk to the arborist. I realized that this must be the lady, who has been described to me as “crazy” by two different people.
My suspicions about the front next door neighbor were correct: this a person to be careful with. She saw me weeding the yard, and asked me if things had turned out "bigger than expected." I was a bit put off by the way she'd asked the question, since it suggested that I may be overwhelmed by the amount of yard work. I said that it was just the way we expected, I was just weeding the yard, nothing more. I overheard her describe the neighbor across the street as “crazy” to the arborist.
Looks like we bought into a pretty weird neighborhood.
Of course, when it came time to put the cable in the oak tree as agreed the day before, it turns out that rather than use a Cobra cable as agreed upon, Mr. Tree Guy tied the tree with a red-colored heavy-duty rope. I can’t believe the aggravations I’ve had with these people. I pointed out to him that this is not what we had discussed previously. He offered to give me a guarantee in writing that would be good “for the lifetime of the rope” (whatever that meant). I almost wanted to laugh at him.
We didn’t get the pile of wood chips we were promised, another reason to feel irritated.
While the tree hackers were back to cut down a tree next door, I cleaned up the remnants of the wisteria. A close examination revealed a lot of decay; parts of the vines are so rotten, they fall apart when touched, the wood feels moist and runny and is full of fine compost.
I also weeded part of the Rose Garden and the bare dirt areas South of the wisteria today.
At some point during the day, a lady appeared in the driveway next door and demanded to talk to the arborist. I realized that this must be the lady, who has been described to me as “crazy” by two different people.
My suspicions about the front next door neighbor were correct: this a person to be careful with. She saw me weeding the yard, and asked me if things had turned out "bigger than expected." I was a bit put off by the way she'd asked the question, since it suggested that I may be overwhelmed by the amount of yard work. I said that it was just the way we expected, I was just weeding the yard, nothing more. I overheard her describe the neighbor across the street as “crazy” to the arborist.
Looks like we bought into a pretty weird neighborhood.
Of course, when it came time to put the cable in the oak tree as agreed the day before, it turns out that rather than use a Cobra cable as agreed upon, Mr. Tree Guy tied the tree with a red-colored heavy-duty rope. I can’t believe the aggravations I’ve had with these people. I pointed out to him that this is not what we had discussed previously. He offered to give me a guarantee in writing that would be good “for the lifetime of the rope” (whatever that meant). I almost wanted to laugh at him.
We didn’t get the pile of wood chips we were promised, another reason to feel irritated.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Tree Work (04-20-10)
I had misgivings about the tree people, so I called their boss in the morning and offered to pay them for yesterday's work and call it a day, but she assured me that everything was fine, she was going to be there all day to supervise the work, etc. So they proceeded with the work.
Hah! What a mistake: they cut my wisteria down! The %^&!! lumberjacks cut it down many reminders to preserve it. The base of the wisteria was enormous but very decayed. From there, it went way up the fir tree, with a huge section of tangled dead old vines hanging precariously on the left side, and a dense network of newer thin vines actively growing and climbing on the right side. So, as he was trimming the branches off the fir tree, the guy removed the dead wisteria branches on the left as he had been instructed. When they fell down, what was left looked GREAT. I was at that point really happy with the results.
Then, about ten minutes later, I saw the guy cut horizontally across the new vines, and, in disbelief, before I could yell at him to stop, the entire mass of new vines came tumbling down with a huge crashing sound. I just about died. I screamed and yelled, but it was too late. Idiot. I was EXTREMELY angry, yelling and cursing, and then the boss drove up the alley in her truck, like everything was fine.
As the wisteria lay in a heap on the ground, the neighbor across the street came running up the driveway, asking why I had the wisteria cut, “It was so lovely,” he said. I was livid, and yelling that I didn't have it cut: the Neanderthal idiot up there had done it!
Seeing that I was upset, the neighbor kindly took me to his house to show me the work that had been done to their dining and living rooms. He seems like a nice eccentric type who talks with a muffled English accent. A pole at the corner of their property display a US and a Norwegian flag which have been flown at half-mast for the last few days (perhaps because of the passing of the Health Care bill a couple of weeks ago?)
As for my wisteria, the damage is irreversible. But after I got really upset and stormed inside the house slamming the door, they gathered the leftover of a clump that fell to the ground and tied it to the tree as high as they could, rather than leaving everything laying in a heap on the ground. I got $200 off the agreed price, big deal!, and little consolation, since a plant that old was truly invaluable, especially when part of a historic property.
Hah! What a mistake: they cut my wisteria down! The %^&!! lumberjacks cut it down many reminders to preserve it. The base of the wisteria was enormous but very decayed. From there, it went way up the fir tree, with a huge section of tangled dead old vines hanging precariously on the left side, and a dense network of newer thin vines actively growing and climbing on the right side. So, as he was trimming the branches off the fir tree, the guy removed the dead wisteria branches on the left as he had been instructed. When they fell down, what was left looked GREAT. I was at that point really happy with the results.
Then, about ten minutes later, I saw the guy cut horizontally across the new vines, and, in disbelief, before I could yell at him to stop, the entire mass of new vines came tumbling down with a huge crashing sound. I just about died. I screamed and yelled, but it was too late. Idiot. I was EXTREMELY angry, yelling and cursing, and then the boss drove up the alley in her truck, like everything was fine.
As the wisteria lay in a heap on the ground, the neighbor across the street came running up the driveway, asking why I had the wisteria cut, “It was so lovely,” he said. I was livid, and yelling that I didn't have it cut: the Neanderthal idiot up there had done it!
Seeing that I was upset, the neighbor kindly took me to his house to show me the work that had been done to their dining and living rooms. He seems like a nice eccentric type who talks with a muffled English accent. A pole at the corner of their property display a US and a Norwegian flag which have been flown at half-mast for the last few days (perhaps because of the passing of the Health Care bill a couple of weeks ago?)
As for my wisteria, the damage is irreversible. But after I got really upset and stormed inside the house slamming the door, they gathered the leftover of a clump that fell to the ground and tied it to the tree as high as they could, rather than leaving everything laying in a heap on the ground. I got $200 off the agreed price, big deal!, and little consolation, since a plant that old was truly invaluable, especially when part of a historic property.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Tree Work (04-19-10)
Lots of activity today. The tree service people showed up late and didn’t get started until 9:00 AM. I’ve tried to take it in stride, but couldn’t help feel irritated when I saw that some tree limbs had been dropped on my rhododendron bushes across from the carport. The same thing happened with the boxwood shrubs on the front left side of the house. Also, they were supposed to leave us some of the wood, but they let the logs right on top of the new sod the roofer placed over the spot where he damaged the front lawn.
Gary did it all today: he tore down more shelving out of the shed, swept the inside of the shed (you don't wanna know), sprayed carpenter ant poison, dug up the old carpets that were buried behind the shed (I guess, that's an innovative way to dispose of them...), carried boulders, organized the tool stuff under the carport, broke moving boxes down, swept the carport, killed Mondo Spiders...
Speaking of spiders, I got bit by something, probably when I was pulling ivy behind the shed. I’ve got fifteen red itchy welts on my lower legs. A hot shower gave only passing relief. I hope it doesn't get worse.
Gary did it all today: he tore down more shelving out of the shed, swept the inside of the shed (you don't wanna know), sprayed carpenter ant poison, dug up the old carpets that were buried behind the shed (I guess, that's an innovative way to dispose of them...), carried boulders, organized the tool stuff under the carport, broke moving boxes down, swept the carport, killed Mondo Spiders...
Speaking of spiders, I got bit by something, probably when I was pulling ivy behind the shed. I’ve got fifteen red itchy welts on my lower legs. A hot shower gave only passing relief. I hope it doesn't get worse.
"Mondo" Spider Sightings (04-19-10)
Since we moved, this is the fifth time we've run into of this type of spider. We apparently are a central gathering place for these little critters...
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Garden Wonders (04-18-10)
I planted some heirloom tomatoes in the garden today:) It’s probably too early, but I don’t care: I wanted to dig in the dirt and plant something.
Large-scale tree work is to be done (by professionals) tomorrow; we hope to save parts of the ancient wisteria.
In the yard: wisteria, tulips, peony tree, lilacs, blueberries, raspberries, currants, spruce trees, camphor elm, white oaks, rose garden, vegetable garden, shade garden, hostas, calla lilies, lavender, gold dust, daphne, butterfly bush, magnolia tree, plum and cherry trees, lawns, azaleas, rhododendrons, peonies, hyacinths... Hydrangeas...Lilies of the valley...Bleeding Heart... It's truly lovely.
Gary and I went over to introduce ourselves to the people who share the flag lot next door (West side). It looks like there are some oddball characters in the neighborhood.
The front house is occupied by a family of four, but we only met the lady. She showed us her huge cat who, she said, can’t go outside because he eats squirrels. She seemed to not like some of the neighbors around and struck me as one of those people one does not want to tell too much to.
The back house is occupied by a couple, their grown daughters, and two grandchildren. Based on the assortment of non-working vehicles, miscellaneous broken toys and items thrown about (I am especially thinking about that large white cardboard box that has been discarded in the yard for who knows how long…), it doesn’t look like they have much time for house and yard maintenance . The back of their yard is covered with piles of wood (likely place for more carpenter ants...)
Large-scale tree work is to be done (by professionals) tomorrow; we hope to save parts of the ancient wisteria.
In the yard: wisteria, tulips, peony tree, lilacs, blueberries, raspberries, currants, spruce trees, camphor elm, white oaks, rose garden, vegetable garden, shade garden, hostas, calla lilies, lavender, gold dust, daphne, butterfly bush, magnolia tree, plum and cherry trees, lawns, azaleas, rhododendrons, peonies, hyacinths... Hydrangeas...Lilies of the valley...Bleeding Heart... It's truly lovely.
Gary and I went over to introduce ourselves to the people who share the flag lot next door (West side). It looks like there are some oddball characters in the neighborhood.
The front house is occupied by a family of four, but we only met the lady. She showed us her huge cat who, she said, can’t go outside because he eats squirrels. She seemed to not like some of the neighbors around and struck me as one of those people one does not want to tell too much to.
The back house is occupied by a couple, their grown daughters, and two grandchildren. Based on the assortment of non-working vehicles, miscellaneous broken toys and items thrown about (I am especially thinking about that large white cardboard box that has been discarded in the yard for who knows how long…), it doesn’t look like they have much time for house and yard maintenance . The back of their yard is covered with piles of wood (likely place for more carpenter ants...)
Friday, April 16, 2010
Paint Problems (04-16-10)
While (reluctantly) painting my closet, Christopher accidentally tipped over the paint tray filled with purple paint, and it fell against the mosaic glass window with a hand.
The window was saved by Monica’s quick reactions: she grabbed the window and ran downstairs to the kitchen (without dripping paint). She then helped me scrub the paint off the pieces of colored glass with a dish brush. As we were frantically scrubbing, we in turn sent purple sprinkles flying on the inside of the sink, on the wall, the floor... There was purple paint everywhere! The only way to get the paint off the window frame was to scrub it with baking soda.
The window was saved by Monica’s quick reactions: she grabbed the window and ran downstairs to the kitchen (without dripping paint). She then helped me scrub the paint off the pieces of colored glass with a dish brush. As we were frantically scrubbing, we in turn sent purple sprinkles flying on the inside of the sink, on the wall, the floor... There was purple paint everywhere! The only way to get the paint off the window frame was to scrub it with baking soda.
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