I finally got a chance to mow the lawn yesterday. The grass has been wet from all the rain for the last couple of weeks, so I’ve had to put it off. It sure needed mowing. I don’t necessarily “dread” mowing. I don’t look forward to it, but once I get started I don’t mind. My dad used to enjoy mowing, but then, he liked to do just about anything that required work. He was a textbook example of a “workaholic”.
When we first moved into this house, I suspected it would be a “short term solution” to our home problems. Stacie was not of the same mind, because, for one thing, she was not about to up and move too soon after the trouble of doing all the packing, loading and every other aspect of the relocation by ourselves. I don’ blame her and I am in total agreement that moving is a drag. I’ve done it so many times. I don’t even want to think about it.
My initial problem with the situation we found ourselves in was not so much the prospect of having to uproot ourselves again. It was the house itself. It’s simply too small, any way you look at it. Bryan’s room is pitifully small. He deserves better. It is a testament to his good nature that he hasn’t once complained about it. Closet space in the bedrooms are about 1/3 as big as we need them to be. It’s just an old house and it looks it’s age. I was more than happy to take it when it was necessary…when our finances weren’t as steady as they had been. But now that my disability benefits have begun coming in, we are in a position to do much better than this. Moving is what I’ve wanted to do ever since we first got here, but I’ve lived in worse, I could handle it as long as Stacie could.
After three months, her opinion of the house has changed. Her resolve to stay here, even for a little while has dwindled. The pros of leaving (even with the hassle of moving) have outweighed the cons of staying here, even if not for the same reasons that I initially had.
The first sign that this was not the place for us was when two of the windows began to fill up with water at the sill when it rained hard. Water pooled up in them and spilled out onto the floor to the point where we had to put large towels in the sill to soak up the excess and big bowls underneath to catch the run off. It looked to be a problem with the gutter. We called the landlord (a Mennonite to whom we’ve given the nickname “Ol’ Boy”). He wasn’t home so we left a message on his answering machine. It was a couple of weeks before he returned our call. He told us he’d been busy, he had a lot of doors to make (he’s a carpenter), but he’d get to it as soon as he could. That was about a week ago and he has not showed up, hasn’t even called.
The next big issue manifested itself a few days ago and involves the toilet stool. I’d just as soon not go into details on that, if you don’t mind. Suffice to say it was the straw that broke the camel’s back for Stacie’s determination to saty here.
To top it all off, Stacie found a tarantula in the kitchen this morning. I didn’t get a chance to see it, as I was still in bed, but she tells me it was not a small one (are there any such things as “small tarantulas”?). I figure it must have found it’s way through our back door after I mowed, it’s tall grass abode having been cut down. But I don’t know…it could have been lurking around the kitchen for a long time. It doesn’t matter, none of us want to live in a place where tarantulas come from out of nowhere. Bryan is slightly arachnophobia, so I’m glad he wasn’t the one who stumbled upon it. I don’t think we’ll be telling him about it, either.
Our financial situation will prevent us from doing anything until next month. Until then the search is on for a better house. Hopefully we’ll be able to find something very nice, if for no other reason than that we aren’t in the position where we HAVE to take the first half-way decent house that comes our way. If the debacle of our last home ownership disaster hasn’t wrecked our chances, we might even buy a house. It depends on whether or not a realtor takes the time to understand what position we were in when we lost the last one and can see that we’re now able to afford a mortgage payment.
Regardless, we are out of here, the sooner the better. Wish us luck.
A new channel from our local cable TV provider: RFD TV. A television network aimed primarily at farmers, it also airs old re-runs of the classic country music programs like “The Buck Owens Show”, “The Porter Wagoner Show”, “Pop Goes the Country” and I don’t know how many other.
This is a MAJOR development for me. I’ve missed those shows, especially Porter Wagoner’s, and it’s great to see them again. I wasn’t even ten years old when I first saw them. Dad tuned in every week. He was partial to Porter’s show, but I remember liking Buck Owens better. I used to run around singing “Tiger By The Tail” all the time. One of the only memories I have of my maternal grandmother is when she requested that I sing that song for her. No doubt everyone there thought it was cute (and no doubt it WAS).
They also show Cajun chef Justin Wilson’s old PBS show. Dad loved that one, too. He used to affect Wilson’s speech so much that I’d have to say “enough’s enough!” The memories kind of spill out when I watch that one, too.
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