This morning, when I turned on the faucet, pipes brought potable water right to my kitchen.
Thank You Taxpayers!
|
This morning, when I turned on the faucet, pipes brought potable water right to my kitchen. Thank You Taxpayers! I was going to write something tonight, but I decided I should read the Hunger Games again in preparation for the movie premier later this week. Sadly, no one will agree to go to the Thursday midnight showing with me (losers), so I am debating going to see it alone or going friday afternoon while L is in school. We also have a group date scheduled to see it again on Saturday. You can guess that I am pretty excited, right? That last post reminded me that I still haven’t answered Jody‘s question from way back when: I’m wondering, why do you think you’re a house-mover? Because I feel like, there are people who are totally comfortable and excited about moving houses every few years (my in-laws, several of our neighbors who are getting antsy, etc.) and then there are people who stay put, even when they could trade up by moving (ME). We’re refinancing now, which meant doing the calculations on whether to pay points, etc., and I had to admit to myself that we’re not moving before the kids graduate college (if the fates allow, god willing, ptooey, ptoeey, ptoeey) and part of me wondered why, since there’s so much that I don’t like about this place, we DON’T look around. But the idea of moving? GAH. So, do you think it’s just a temperament thing? What you grew up doing/not doing? Total randomness? This is an interesting question to me. I love houses. I really do. I like to look at them, imagine living in them, identify and fix their flaws. I go to open houses for fun and I (due to my great spacial and visual memory) can tell you all about the layout and details about many, many of my neighbors’ houses. I love looking at house plans. If you follow me on pinterest, you will only find house pictures. I like to imagine living in different cities or neighborhoods. I also love figuring out what houses would be a good fit for other people. If it wasn’t such a bad fit for our lifestyle, I would love to be realtor. When I was growing up, my mom and dad talked about building their dream house for many years. When they finally built it, I got to design my room & the Jack and Jill bathroom I shared with my sister and that was fun. After about six years in that house, they moved to a different house (with flaws) that is on a lake, which was a different kind of dream. We also moved every 3-4 years when I was growing up. I think I have lived in about 17 houses including all the apartments and places I lived in college and before I got married. When we sold our last house and started looking for the Forever House, I assumed we would be doing a full gut renovation. That was not nearly as appealing to me as building a house, but I just never thought there was any chance we could get a lot that didn’t already have a house here. We did talk a little about tearing a crappy house down, but that didn’t seem particularly cost effective. For me, every new house feels like it is full of possibilities. Even the idea of moving into a new rental is appealing because it will solve some problems this house brings to my life (mainly the time suck of fixing everything). Once I move in a house, I have to start dealing with the faults of the new house which is not so fun. The hassle of moving doesn’t bother me either. A sick part of my brain really loves organizing and throwing junk away, so moving means we get to purge then I get to organize a whole new house. Then, I get I don’t really enjoy the process of fixing things, but I do like seeing the improvements at the end of the process. I don’t know why I like houses. It is kind of like asking why I like to read. I just do. I recently found Hooked on Houses and the house forums at Gardenweb which show me I am not alone in my house love. I know building the new house will be unpleasant, but I am hoping it will be worth it in the end.
This week, M will turn nine. NINE. As in, half way to the end of my legal parenting responsibility for her. I know it is hard to believe, but I am not one of those parents who gets all verklempt about my babies growing up. Except this time, I am. How can my baby be NINE? How can I be half way done having her in my house? It was nearly 10 years ago that I got pregnant. I was not one of those glowy happy pregnant ladies. Again, I imagine you are all just shocked to hear this…. I was cranky and annoyed. I was also struggling with the unplannedness of my pregnancy and the many ways it destroyed life as I knew it at age 26. As for the baby and toddler years, you can imagine how I felt about those. I think I was the original creator of the term “baby jail”. Babies and toddlers and preschoolers, Jesus, they are exhausting. The burden ensuring the survival of such small people chafed. They were like two little monkeys hanging on my every word and move. All I wanted was SPACE and FREEDOM and please God, QUIET. I look at my friends who still have young babies and I thank my lucky stars we started earlier and now those baby days are long past. As happy as I was to have my lovely girls, I tend to think of those early years as the Dark Decade. Much of the time I was just holding on by the skin of my teeth. But now, my little girls are not little. Next year, come hell or high water, L will be in kindergarten (though possibly only half day…I will spare you my sturm und drang about the possibility that she won’t get into the full day program). Suddenly, I have space and freedom and quiet. Or at least I have those things often enough that I don’t go bonkers. And my girls are actually turning into little people. Pleasant little people who I actual enjoy having around. I can also look ahead and see the writing on the wall. It won’t be long before my girls don’t really want to hang out with me any more. I know the time is coming when I will be Undesirable Number One. I keep thinking about getting a job, but I always get hung up on missing their summer vacation. We had so much fun last year, I don’t want to miss a single minute of it. Today, someone on Facebook mentioned being in the parenting sweet spot. I agree, that is where I am too. These are the sweetest days of parenting for me. I can’t imagine it being better than this.
Ever since we moved in, we have had a problem with our garage. That problem’s name is Animals. When we first took possession of the house, I spent an entire day shoveling a large trashcan full of poop out of every disgusting crevasse and corner. Then we disinfected and painted the whole thing. Then, I blocked off every opening that was big enough to permit raccoons* or squirrels to enter the garage. I even went as far as sprinkling some kind of coyote pee around the garage in an attempt to scare the squirrel away. I thought the problem was solved. HAHAHAHA. My house laughs at my naivete. The fucking squirrel is back. It has created a little back door entrance to it’s stupid nut storage facility in the garage soffit by chewing a small hole along the gutter. It drops down from the walnut tree on to the roof, then stores all it’s walnuts there. I have had it with the animals in the garage, but I am also managing the kitchen remodel situation, so I set Mr. A to work on it. When I told him to take care of the squirrels was for him to call the pest control people. Instead, he has decided to take them on himself. Mr. A has created what he calls the Squirrel Defense System (SDS). I admit, I have my doubts about the SDS. It involves the following:
I had the most hope for the trap. So far, we caught one chipmunk…twice. We also attracted a raccoon which stole the tuna fish can out of the trap without setting it off. Then, when Mr. A set the same trap up on the roof near the hole, the raccoon managed to climb onto the garage roof, rip off a number of gutter guard/screens and remove the tuna fish can before dropping the cage on the ground.
.
It does not appear that the squirrel has any interest in the trap. He does seem to be mocking our efforts though. Once we set the trap, he has been leaving us walnuts in very obvious places. He left one on the back porch steps. He left on right in the middle of the back patio. He left on on the front porch railing. He left on in the basement window well. Everywhere we go, there are very poorly hidden walnuts taunting us.
.
Last night, Mr. A moved the trap to the garage. This morning, I found the trap was sprung, but empty. It also had a huge pile of old walnut shells dumped right on top of it.
.
I swear, I heard the squirrel laughing.
*Is the plural of raccoon just raccoon? Because spellcheck is adamantly opposing that s on the end there |
|
|
Copyright © 2012 American Family - All Rights Reserved |
|