New Home Continues to Build Character

Friday on my lunch break, I wandered around the Home Depot garden center with a glazed look in my eye. I picked out some heavy duty work gloves, but I wasn't sure what kind of little diggy thing to buy for planting flowers. I don't even know what those diggy things are called. I also needed a big clipper thing for cutting back dead branches. Have you ever been to the Home Depot garden department? It's huge! Completely overwhelming.

I appreciate a nice green space. I love a good stroll in the garden or a romp on the grass. I enjoy seeing trees and flowers and nice landscaping. But I'm an "appreciator," not a "doer." I'm nearly as handy with garden tools as I am with regular tools, which is to say, not very handy.

As a teenager I mowed the lawn for the family home. I hated it. I sneezed and sniffled over row after row of grass, only to have my dad tell me what a terrible job I'd done. I wasn't good at edges, apparently, or something. I never quite got it.

What I did very consciously know was that when I grew up and lived on my own, I would NEVER mow a lawn. I would live in apartments and condominiums where that was done for me. For that matter, I looked forward to the time when I would never again lift a snow shovel in winter.

I've completely succeeded. I haven't mowed a lawn since the 1980s and I've only shoveled snow once in my adulthood, and that was to keep my mother from going out and doing it herself because the snow removal guy was late.

Last week, I gazed out the large picture window in my new living room. The shrubs were looking pretty mangy and the weeds were starting to proliferate between the front door and the patio. I wondered when the lawn and garden service would be out to clean it up. Since my house is legally a condo with "common area" upkeep reportedly provided by the homeowners' association, I just assumed this would be taken care of.

As I looked around at neighboring condos, I noticed that the vegetation in front of some looked very tidy and well groomed.

At what point do you suppose the obvious started to dawn on me?

I excel at denial. Plus, I've been busy dealing with the inside of the house, like deciding where to put towel racks in the bathroom (there are none) and what color to paint the bedroom. After about three days of a little thought percolating in the back of my mind, it finally occurred to me that I might be responsible for my own landscaping.

Rage grappled with panic for control over my response to the situation. Rage pooled around the growing list of frustrations with this place and how some of these "little" details should have been but were not disclosed to me before closing. The panic was simpler: I simply didn't have a clue what to do with those half dead bushes out front. Paving them over seemed the best option.

I sought out a friendly neighbor for clarification. I found her seated amongst her own bushes, clipper in hand, pulled weeds littering the sidewalk. I asked her what I already knew.

Turns out that to save money, this very casual and laid back HOA decided a while back to limit the lawn service and for each person to keep up their own little areas themselves. In addition, the snow removal service was eliminated. Everyone just "pitches in" when it snows.

Newly trimmed bushes - there's me in the window
and Charles inside the front door.

Recourse?

I could kick myself black and blue for not asking the right questions, although who could have known all the questions which should have been asked?

I could consult a lawyer and sue someone, which would cost everyone a lot of money and accomplish very little.

Or I could suck it up and deal with it. Hence my lunch time visit to Home Depot.

Early Saturday morning I was outside with some clippers and my new gloves, snapping off the dead parts of a couple scroungy bushes. With satisfaction, I admired my work. It looked a lot better. At least now I don't have to be embarrassed when the neighbors look my way.

I guess I'd better pick up a snow shovel at some point.

Character, Character, and More Character

My new home continues to impress me with examples of its distinctive character.

Previously in BillsWeek, I discussed a few of the property's features about which I had failed to ask before purchasing. I struggled with a number of disconcerting surprises including:

• The total absence of drawers in the kitchen
• The knob on the back door which comes off in your hand if you turn it the wrong way
• The bump in the garage that scrapes the bottom of my car

My intention was to view each newly discovered foible as a sign, not of a bottomless money pit which languished most recently as a cheaply maintained rental, but of a finely aged and well lived in home of great character. Instead of being annoyed that I have to organize all of my forks in a canister on the counter, I choose to revel in my kitchen's unique charm.

But appreciating my house's character is getting harder to do. The problems, I mean characteristic attributes, just keep coming.

• One of the window air conditioners that the previous owner so generously left behind is not only too filthy to ever use,  but is also apparently the ideal habitat for a community of wasps. I didn't know this until I pulled the appliance out of the window onto my bedroom floor.
• The home security system alarm goes off whenever my cat Charles jumps onto the window sill. Ok, strictly speaking, that's more about the crappy alarm system than the house, but it's still annoying.
• The floor beneath the washing machine is uneven. I know when it's reached spin cycle because the living room floor vibrates at Richter scale 4.8.
• The bathtub bottom is covered with cute little plastic fish stickers that are supposed to keep you from slipping during a shower. I hate them. I think they look trashy. Every now and then I try to peal one off. Whenever I succeed, I not only have a sticky fish in my hand, but a few chunks of enamel. My bathtub is pockmarked where the finish is chipping away. I am afraid to take a bath because little tub shards sticking to my nether regions is not conducive to a relaxing soak.
• Charles' favorite window is in the kitchen above the sink. He leaps from the floor below, banking off the counter near whatever food I'm working with, into the window. Not only does it startle me, but I hear my late mother's voice decrying the unhygienic practice of allowing animals in the kitchen, let alone on the counter.
• Ants. Millions of them. So many ants. If you were to make a movie about ants taking over the world, it would look like my dining room floor. Ant poison? They laugh, devour it, and move on to the cat food. I've received some suggestions from Facebook friends about how to deal with this problem. Next up is the thing you plug into the wall which uses the electric power lines throughout the house to somehow vibrate them away. If that doesn't work, an exorcism might not be out of the question.

I don't regret buying this house. I can't regret it. I'm stuck with it. The best thing to do is take responsibility for my new property and deal with each issue as best I can. And I strive to see the positive side. It's still bigger than my old place, and I like the wood floors. I have a washing machine with a spin cycle. I got to buy a new swamp cooler which I will enjoy when the weather gets hot enough. I love the neighborhood. And it's nice to have a kitchen window.

Does anyone want a couple of used air conditioners?

New Home Riddled With Problems, I Mean, Character

The move is complete.

I accept your hearty congratulations.

I'm all settled in my little ranch style house/condo/4-plex/residence.

Well, not completely settled. I'm still moving some furniture around, looking for just the right arrangement. I've purchased a swamp-cooler which I have to set up before it gets hot. I'm figuring out how to cope with how quickly cat liter spreads across those hard-wood floors.

The cats are figuring out the best places to sleep (Lily on the big pillow under the coffee table and Charles on the DVR because it's warm).

To be honest, the honeymoon period has been a little rocky. There are a number of things I didn't check before purchase which I now wish I had:

This is what a kitchen with no drawers looks like

• There are no drawers in the kitchen - not one. Don't know how I missed that. 
• Not all the windows have screens. 
• Not all the windows had locks. They do now. 
• The neighbors can hear the alarm every time I set or unset my new home security system. 
• The slope by the garage door scrapes the bottom of the car, unless you go just the right speed and turn in/out at just the right angle. 
• The neighbors can hear my deluxe surround sound system. 
• The neighbors can probably hear me go to the bathroom. 
• The knob on the back door comes off in your hand if you turn it the wrong way. 
• Front blinds don't go all the way down - rather one side does and the other doesn't. I see custom shutters in my future. 
• Because of the way they are arranged, you can't open the dishwasher and reach the cupboards at the same time - makes it a challenge to put dishes away. 
• The front screen door doesn't close all the way unless you pull it shut - no big deal unless you have cats. 
• The combination washer-dryer doesn't dry, it only washes. 
• Where is the furnace? Why does the heat come on when the thermostat is set to off?

Granted, I can live with most of these problems or fix them. But I admit to wondering whether it was wise to move out of a perfectly functioning domicile with working shutters.

The answer is clear when I go back to the old condo which I am preparing to rent out. I walk into the empty living room and say, "Boy, is this place small." The new (older) place is bigger. The bedroom is actually a bedroom, not a combination bedroom-office-laundry room. So what if there's a big burnt spot on the living room floor which had been covered up by the realtor's staging furniture. That just adds to the character of the place. Yeah, that's it. Character.