The Cost of Clean Clothing

It holds about a third of what the old washer did. So we have to do smaller loads. Clyde thinks it's cute. It looks like R2D2.


Our washer died.

It was a cute little European model, a combination washer and dryer. It was a good washer. A terrible dryer. But it got the clothes clean.

It looked smart and efficient tucked under the counter in our kitchen.

It came with the house. It was in fact, one of the few things that didn't contribute to that bottomless money pit.

There are some things I've refused to do in my adulthood: mow the lawn, shovel snow, and drag my dirty clothes out to a public place where I have to shove quarters into a machine that God only knows in who has washed God only knows what.  So naturally, when the washer died, I jumped on line to see what new washers were available that would fit under our counter.

Buying the same model we had before turned out to be a little on the pricey side, so I looked around and settled on a less expensive portable washer.

Clyde and I live modestly but comfortably. We don't have a lot of debt. We eat out and travel. But our house is small. We don't drive fancy cars. And we don't waste money on deluxe washers.

Turns out this new little washer is too small to to reach the kitchen plumbing. It has to be dragged into the bathroom, hooked up to that sink, and drained into the bathtub. But it fits under the counter and it was cheap.

It is a lot smaller than I expected. It holds about a third of what the old washer did. So we have to do smaller loads. Clyde thinks it's cute. It looks like R2D2. It took a few days to figure out exactly how to hook it to the sink - turns out we didn't have the right attachment for the faucet. I went to Home Depot and came home with the wrong size. Don't ever send me to Home Depot. I'm a disaster at Home Depot.

The laundry was piling up.

Clyde managed to find the right size faucet attachment at McGuckin's Hardware in Boulder.

After much trial and error, I was finally able to hook up the new machine. I plugged it in. I attached one end of the hose to the sink and the other end to the little washer. I set the program to wash, rinse, and spin. I turned on the faucet. Water shot me in the face, blasted the wall, the shower curtain, and the floor.

I tightened the hose. Tighter. Tighter. Finally, a little water dribbled into the washer. My shirt was soaked.

Tighter, tighter.  My finger started to bleed.

So it turns out the laundromat isn't so bad. You can put a 20 into a machine that churns out a whole bunch of quarters. The washers and dryers are huge so you can do a lot of clothes at once. The other customers are mostly nice. For extra convenience, there's an "all natural 'green' medicinal and recreational health clinic" next door. For those of you who don't live in Colorado, that means it's a marijuana shop.

R2D2 remains under the counter for emergencies. If you cover the sink and the hose with a towel while you use it, water doesn't spray all over the place. I'm still looking for ways to make it better. I might go over to Home Depot and see if they have a better hose.

Car Finally Fits in the Garage (and other ways I'm finally making peace with my house)

The new car is a 2015 Nissan Versa with all the extras. As Rafael, the auto salesperson, tried to impress me with facts about the engine which I didn't understand, I marveled at the satellite radio and obsessed about the color. And I wondered what it would be like to give up my Altima for a smaller car.

The Altima was bigger and had a smoother ride. But it was scratched and dented because I kept scraping the sides as I drove into my ancient, narrow garage.

I also drove it pretty hard, back and forth to Highlands Ranch every day, so after 120,000 miles, it was time to let go.

As I emptied the old car of personal items for the final time, I thought about getting all teary and sentimental. We had some good times, that car and I. I'll never forget the big road trip to Kentucky, Indiana, and other points east (see blogs of same) in the summer of 2010. There were lots of trips to Nebraska and Wyoming, and scenic drives to state parks all over Colorado.

Lots of good memories.

But as I moved the tire pressure checker thing from the old car to the new, and the can of stuff you spray into a flat tire in an emergency, and the plastic dust pan I use as a shovel when stuck in the snow, I decided that cars are only machines. They don't have souls. They aren't living things.

Unlike my house. which is very much alive and evil and out to get me.

Ok, just to be accurate, I live in one of a bunch of old 1950s multi-unit ranch style condominiums. Mine has a nice patio and garden, but don't let that fool you. It came from Hell to torture me.

I had trouble the minute I moved in (see blogs from the summer of 2013). The furnace kicked on for no reason in the middle of summer. I was inundated with ants. I found out there were people living in the basement that the previous owner failed to disclose. Every time I turned the bedroom light and the TV on at the same time, the power went off. When I removed the window air conditioner unit, swarms of wasps living inside it filled the room.

And speaking of insect life, I sure have learned more than I ever wanted to know about bedbugs.

There was a long, long list of problems that first year. In addition, though I was in the luxurious new position of having an actual garage, it was too narrow for my car. To add insult to injury, there was a bump in the concrete floor which scrapped loudly against the bottom of the vehicle as I drove in and out.

Things with the house have gradually improved. I have a new portable air conditioner. I've adjusted to the odd circumstance of not having any drawers in the kitchen. The furnace now limits itself to winter only, though we regularly have to open the windows while it's snowing because it gets so hot in the living room. And we are bedbug free for over a year.

Best of all, Clyde moved in, making it feel so much more like home. He likes it there. He doesn't think the house is evil.

He also discovered and removed  a huge colony of ants in a planter outside the front door which was the source of the infestation that first summer.

I've made my peace with most of the problems and I'm gradually fixing things up so I can resell my house someday. Some of the little flaws actually add a touch of character. So the front door sticks sometimes and actually makes me worried we'll be trapped in a fire some day. HA HA! Character.

At least now, I can park my car in the garage. It's lighter too, so I don't scrape the bottom any more (unless Clyde is in the passenger seat - he has to get out before I pull in).

I actually almost think I like living in my old house now. Our house, I mean.

Darn it, I think I left all my reusable grocery bags in the old car.

Getting into the "Spirit" of Halloween

Around the big old houses in my neighborhood which tend to be spooky anyway, skeletons are springing up in front yards and witches are flying suspended in trees.

My decorations, like my home, are considerably more modest in comparison. I am thinking of picking up a cheap plastic ghost to hang on the screen door.

My boyfriend has already put three pumpkins on the front step. Combined with the occasional ghostly cat in the window (see photo) and the dead leaves I tend not to sweep away, they could create an eerie ambiance if you squint just right.

I'm not a big Halloween lover. I always thought the depictions of death and violence were, well, scary. I don't like being scared. Real life is frightening enough, what with supervolcanos and congressional gridlock and the like.

Because some past Halloweens have overlapped  with personal experiences of illness and death, I don't particularly think fake cemeteries in front yards are funny.

But I'm in the minority.

Perhaps its the skeletal appearance of trees recently shed of leaves, or the longer, darker nights, but this time of year, people seem preoccupied with the specter of death. In Mexico, Dia de Muertos mocks it with colorful celebrations and comic ghoulishness. In some Christian traditions, less fun of course, All Saints and All Souls Days solemnly commemorate those who have passed on.

Most of us in the U.S. mainstream culture, however, dress up in fanciful costumes, drape fake spider webs around our homes, and give lots of candy to children.

As a child, I happily participated in Halloween traditions. Every year, I wore a cheap plastic mask through which I could barely breathe, the condensation building around my mouth until I had to lift it away from my face. I blindly felt skinned grapes which I was told were eyes and ran my fingers through cold spaghetti which felt like brains. I scrupulously avoided apples and popcorn balls which could be laced with razor blades. I watched the Charlie Brown Halloween special hoping year after year that maybe, just maybe, this time the Great Pumpkin would show up for Linus, but he never did.

Frankly, what I enjoy most about Halloween is that it kind of kicks off the holidays for the rest of the year. After trick or treat, it's only a short stretch to Thanksgiving, followed by my birthday which ranks high on the celebration scale, and Christmas, of course.

This year, however, I'm in a new home where neighbors go all out with the spooky decorations. I have to consider the possibility that there will be children knocking at my door expecting candy. I should probably up my game a little and get into the, quote, spirit of the season. I had better get that plastic ghost on my door.

New Home Ready for People to See

Regular readers are aware of the challenges I've faced this summer in my new (old) home, somewhat beleaguered with unexpected "issues."

Well, I've tackled many of the issues and my domicile is becoming more livable. It hasn't been a smooth, or cheap, process, but I am moving bravely forward.

For example, the guest bed has been delivered, in plenty of time for the first overnight visitors. Or, well, actually just one visitor. One short visitor (the person being short, not the visit). Turns out the bed is a lot smaller than I expected. Don't ever order a sofa-bed from a catalog. On the upside, Charles the cat has claimed it as his own and covered it with fur.

The prominently empty wall in the living room now has a canvas photographic print which brings out and brightens the colors in the room (wow, I almost sound like a decorator). I still hope to secure an original piece of art from a well known artist - or at least an artist that I know well.

Ants and wasps have been properly subdued. Some other insects continue to challenge. Charles likes to watch spiders. They flourish under his gaze. Miller-moths really bring out his inner wild hunter, but as far as I know he has yet to catch one.

I'm in the process of figuring out where to put my Christmas tree when the time comes.

I still need things like candles and throw pillows (not too many - one can go way overboard with throw pillows).  Please don't give me these things - I want to pick my own. Thank you.

I'm still aghast that there are no drawers in the kitchen - that's right, NO drawers - I do have a system of hooks and canisters for organizing everything.

I haven't been able to get a handle on are the outside chores. My "garden" and patio are overgrown with weeds, or at least I assume they are weeds. How do you tell what's good and what to pull? Some of those invasive species are really pretty. I've done some weeding but the more I do the worse it seems to get. Fortunately it will soon succumb to winter and I won't have to think about it for a few months.

I still don't understand how my furnace works. It's a long story, but the short of it is I'd better learn before it gets cold.

The bump in the garage floor that scrapes the bottom of the car is still there and always will be. I've learned to drive around it, but there's a problem. It seems to be moving from one side of the garage to the other.

The good news is that I'm ready to invite people over to see the place. If you're in the area September 28, 2013 at 7:00 p.m., stop by for the official housewarming party. It promises to be a fabulous event. Or at least, there will be some food set out. Just let me know if you're coming so I'll have enough chips and salsa. And please, no gifts. I want the house warmed with your presence, not your presents.

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.