Owning is house feels like being responsible for a mystery novel that you will never, ever finish. Where does that hole go? Why is it there? What is that weird spot on the ceiling? Has it gotten bigger in the last month? Why does the bathroom have no outlets and no wall switch? Why is there a fireplace in the basement?
This morning I watched House Detective, which always makes me paranoid even if my house doesn't have any of the problems they show, and my heart went out to the young couple with the 1920s Dutch colonial farm house in upstate New York that had crumbling masonry and rotting woodwork. If one of the SUNYs comes calling, that could be me. As it is, I'm in my 1920s Cape Ann double gambrel that, after being mine for 20 months, has a new roof, new kitchen floor, a new back door, and half-informed attempts at gardening and window boxes. And it will shortly have a new bedroom ceiling, bathroom ceiling, and bathroom fan if I can just bring myself to sign the contractor's $2600 bid for that project.
(Note: I have no idea of $2600 is a lot for the project I want them to do, but I'm paying it because they are a wonderful woman-friendly, environmentally conscious, preservation-minded firm that I want to support. I don't think I can deal with another smoke-stained toothless man calling me "missy" and asks me if my dog ever goes huntin' while he pokes with a screwdriver at whatever he's there to assess.)
With that amount gnawing away in the back of my head this week, I was doing my regular morning thing of taking the car out of the garage, stopping in the driveway, parking and hopping back out of the car to close the garage door, and as I closed the door there was an enormous metallic THUNK. It's like the garage knew that I had been coveting an automatic door and decided to help me with the decision. This morning I went in the garage to see if I could fix whatever went thunk, and indeed I cannot - one of the big rusty springs on the door track had broken off, with the spring shot to the other side of the garage, tangled in a bag of plastic bowling pins (don't ask), and the formerly attached wire dangling among the wheels and track.
So, do I try to get this replaced now, hoping to save my car (which itself had $1400 in repairs in early December) at least a few weeks of wear in winter parking that it would be exposed to with the garage out of comission? Or do I suck it up, tarp the car when the weather dictates, and deal with it in the fall?
And also, why have I only just now noticed that there are footprints on the wood of my garage rafters and ceiling? Or a cigarette on the ground?
