Diary of a mad homeowner

The trials and tribulations of fixing up a house filled with character but not much else

Rant

All moved in … well sort of

The move is done, and I’m trying to come to terms with the Bar B Ranch, as Drew calls it.

The move took an entire day to complete, and almost a week later, I’m still unpacking, fixing, painting and cleaning. This was the dirtiest place I’ve ever lived, there were rolls of dog hair behind the floor moulding, the blinds have a thick layer of dust on them, and the bathroom was Calcutta in July.

So far, I’ve discovered where some of the problems are: the massive lake that forms in the driveway when it rains or snow, the slight oily film on the water that comes out of the faucets, the wallpaper that someone must have put up using Super Glue. The next challenge to get fixed are the heating ducts that have about 6-inches of dust and dirt in them, and when the furnace is on, it’s hard not to cough. The furnace is a little loud, probably due to the lack of floor covering, but it works well.

The roof contract is signed, and they will start work on it sometime in the next two weeks.

The fridge saga has been what has caused me the greatest stress. Decisions, decisions, trying to find a fridge that would work. Home Depot messed up the order, and I received a white fridge, not a black one as ordered. They said they could correct the mistake and bring their floor model to the house, but would only be able to leave it in the driveway, they wouldn’t bring it in the house. I told them to get knotted and cancel the order.

Sears was happy to activate my credit card and allow me to buy the same fridge as the one at Home Depot, and a smaller fridge for the interim until the following week. The problem began with changing my address on the account. I gave them my new home phone number, a number that belonged to two people who seem to owe Sears and Mastercard a lot of money. The nasty Filipino bitch who told me I needed to learn how to cooperate got a loud thunk in her ear when I hung up on her. Only one customer service agent listened and heard that I have my cell number, and that’s my verification for who I am.

The money total is adding up.

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