Evil

The other night, a friend asked, "So this is your first spring in the new house, right? Any surprises?" She meant, any plant/tree/vegetation surprises. John answered, "Garlic!" And I simultaneously said, "Ants!"

Ah, ants. Apparently something many Oregonian homeowners battle, and I've joined the army with true fervor.

And though there are, oh, 5,000 reasons on the list I won't ever be a loving-kindness-breathing Buddhist compassion role model, reason 5,001 is the glee I take in watching the ants eat the poison I've put out, and the happiness I get in imagining them taking that poison back to the home nest.

And like all the people on the internet, I can attest it is true: Terro is the ONLY ant killin' brand that works!

Another new one!

The first thing in our new house broke last night! The kitchen sink!

I can't even imagine what causes water to gracefully arc out of the side of the faucet (somewhere in the middle of the neck; was it hit with a pan?), but that is what we have.

Some plumbing tape, covered with duct tape, and I said: "Heck, in my house growing up, we'd have left it like that for a couple weeks." (My father's dishwasher has been broken since 1997. I am not joking. He just uses a little bucket to hold the door up, so it does not fall to the ground when loading. Old Yankee thriftiness taken to the extreme.)

But that is not how John's family operated. Nor how he operates now. Ahem.

And because I'm nothing if not honest... this literally happened in the midst of my asking John the last time he cleaned a bathroom in this new house, the last time he swept the living room in this new house (two things I was doing at the time), and so even I have to then admit that while I may do the lion's share of the day to day, were it up to me, we'd be soon living full-time either with duct tape or be out whatever ungodly amount a plumber charges to put in a new faucet.

But, Emily!, you must be saying. Your husband has a theater degree and a finance degree! What could he know about fixing and installing things!? And so to those folks -- and those parents who might worry a theater degree has no real world application -- I say to thee three words: set design class.

The man can cut, he can measure, he can saw, he can use a power drill and more... and has a layer of aesthetic appreciation, too. In the middle of the kitchen loss, that's what we call a win-win.

Attitudes

OK, OK, if it IS all in my attitude... see below... then I'm taking suggestions, advice, directions - even orders. This funny and sigh-worthy post about entropy, and how our homes just keep marching toward disorder, is so terrifically true.

The advice I seek: how do I change my attitude?

The background: those close to me know I am, oh, um, a bit of a clean freak. And not just a clean-countertops, swept-garage sort of clean freak. I am only satisfied when all papers are filed, closets are organized (color coordinated sometimes), cabinets are stocked, bills are paid, lists are made and no item is in the house that does not get used. Not an extra set of sheets, not a sock that lost its mate, not a painting I've grown bored of, not a birthday card two months out of date. Out, out, out!

The question: with a very high need for cleanliness... which I claim brings me mental clarity and that sought-after, ever-elusive state of "relaxation"... while living in a world that tends toward entropy... how do I adjust expectations?

What mantras do you have, what patterns do you swear by or what magical potion do you seek that lets you embrace entropy from time to time, and still find metal clarity, relaxation, and life lived joyfully (if on the messy side in your very own home!)?

Impact

Our new house is just that - new. There is no need to replace, update or install sinks, floors, doors, fixtures, handles, paint or cabinets. However, to make the rule there must be one exception, and ours is that one of the toilet seats is nicked and scratched and missing paint, and also is a mismatch for the toilet itself. This weekend, we replaced it. And I realized that of all the mounds of garbage I've seen or read about in the world's landfills - the refrigerators, the toilet seats, the old drywall, the scuffed floorboards - I have never directly put part of a house in that mound. And that's a good thing for 29 years of living with rental toilets (with wooden seats), rental showers (with lilac tiling), rental screen doors (complete with rips) and rental paint (always white)... but it's also the beginning of a new search for ways to recycle all manner of trash. The toilet seat, I fear, it headed for the landfill, but John balanced our environmental pro-con list and installed this:




Our new 55 gallon rain barrel! I have to figure out how to paint it or cover it in decals, because as water-saving as it may be, it still needs to earn it's aesthetic keep around here.

Personal Inventory: Shoes.

Heading into my 29th year next week, it feels like a good time to take some personal inventories. And what easier way to start than with the tangibles? So we begin with... shoes.

Oft called a woman's favorite thing, I have not normally given them too much thought. However, with a professional job and princess-and-the-pea feet who steadfastly prefer fine brands, this is as good a place as any to take stock, and start a new trend of consuming consciously.

Current count: 21 pairs. This includes two pairs of flip flops, which need to be tossed and replaced with one quality pair. It includes one pair of Sorel winter boots (because you will never really be able to take the Montana out of the girl), and one pair of heels that will be given to Goodwill after they are worn in a wedding later this year. It does not include a pair of ski boots or a pair of scuba diving booties, as I think these are sportswear and not footwear, and it does not include thoroughly beat up, mangled, old, scuzzo sneakers that live in the car permanently -- in case it breaks down in the middle of nowhere and I need to walk a distance (again, see girl + Montana).

In my heart of hearts, I'd like to own no more than 10 pairs of shoes at any given time. However, even for me this is pretty ambitious, the ugly American that I am, so I'm going to start with a solid 20 as the limit. From here on out, if a new pair gets bought, an old pair gets tossed. It already gives me goal... one old Payless pair of sneakers for real athletic shoes and the other old Payless pair for cute (non-running) sneakers; one old pair o' scuffed boots for work-appropriate fancy-lady boots, etc.

So, onward! And next up: purses. (We may as well get the classic women's wear out of the way first.)

So of course... if you'd like to share... how many shoes are in your closest(s) and trunk(s) and garage(s) and hallway(s)?

Oh, this is why!

Tonight, for the very first time, I took my book and a glass of wine and some snacks out in the backyard, and enjoyed an extremely quiet evening in the cool evening breeze. It had a smidgen of a vacation feel to it, and I thought... oh yeah! This is why I wanted to buy a house! I need to do this more before the rains return.

From the Annals of (New) Homeownership:

Things built or put together this weekend:
- 3 curtain rods (2 for curtains, 1 for displaying an antique quilt)
- industrial strength garage shelves; 3 shelves, roughly 6 feet high by 6 feet wide and the most glorious example of organization I have ever assisted in constructing
- 1 dimmer switch
- 1 bookshelf-from-a-box

Things gotten rid of this weekend:
- all the weird mish-mash of plants in the front yard (remaining? a great lavendar, a great rosemary and a mysterious but adorable shrub)
- all the boxes from moving
- spider webs from all around the eaves and front door

Things given to us for free by neighbors this weekend:
- 2 very large bottles of beer
- the salad greens for dinner, rinsed and sitting in the colander right now

And now the real accounting... things bought this weekend:
- 1 large living room rug
- 1 large rug pad
- 1 chocolate brown cozy living room chair
- 1 delicate pink throw that the guest room NEEDED
- all the parts needed for constructing the aforementioned garage shelves
- 2 throw pillows that will be returned (probably)
- 1 bookshelf-in-a-box
- 18 other necessary items, ahem, from Home Depot

Meals bought at a restaurant (take out) this weekend:
1 lunch, 1 dinner

Meals cooked at home this weekend:
1 dinner, 2 breakfasts

Meals eaten at someone else's house this weekend:
1 dinner

The best part of the weekend is that we put the boxes on Craiglist for free, and shoved 'em to the end of the driveway. Two minutes later, one of our very nice and friendly neighbors asked if he could have them... and took about 90%. Then he brought us two large beers as thanks! Quoth John, "He took away the boxes AND gave us beer? Now that's a win win."

It's a mystery, x 2.

There is much, much, MUCH to write and many, many, MANY pics to post of the great weekend move. But for now, there are two mysteries to this little corner of NE Dekum...

First, we have an insane neighbor who walks around his yard of weeds and scrap wood, carefully selects a shitty, splintery piece, and uses his circular saw to cut it. ALL DAY. And evening. He also appears to maybe live in a tent in the yard. (I think he will figure greatly in future blogs... and future research into noise/nuisance laws.)

Second, a couple times a day, each day, the whole block is filled with the smell of ice cream cones. I don't how else to describe it... too light to be cookies, and too sweet to be actual waffles. Maybe there is a waffle cone factory nearby? I'm not sure, but it's sort of amazing.

The magical moment of transformation.

I can't think of anything in life, that I've done yet, that is a single, solitary magical moment of transformation.

Sure, I graduated high school and college, but in both cases, there was no diploma in the fancy case that was handed to me with a handshake. I had to pay fees, return library books, wait for the finals to be graded and recorded, and only then was I magically turned into a B.A.

Sure, I got married last year. But to do this and have the state recognize it, a couple has to apply for a marriage license at least three business days in advance. Then they must file said marriage license, which does not happen on day of the wedding (unless you get married at noon on a Tuesday) and it takes a month or so to be recorded. Only then are you magically bound by law. (You could just skip out on filing the license, have a party, and go your merry separate ways, which I find odd; shouldn't "they" bind you to it at the ceremony!?)

Sure, I've been hired at cool jobs, but I've also had to wait to start working at them. Sure, I've turned 21 and waited for that first legal drink... but even then, they let me drink at 11 PM at Montana AleWorks in my hometown, even after seeing the date on the license. An sure, before that wedding I got engaged, but we're a collaborative type of couple; it wasn't insanely out of nowhere, ya know what I mean?

Much like these milestones, I'm on the precipice of owning a house today. At 5 PM, or a few minutes before, the county recording agency will change the title from someone else's name to mine and John's. But before this, we've applied for a loan, signed all the documents, signed some more, send even more to the banks... and at 5 PM tomorrow, the supposed magical moment of transformation will happen.

But alas, we won't get the keys till an hour later. Or on Wednesday, or actually as late as Thursday at 5 PM, since we're such darn nice buyers, so it is another contribution to the hum-drum-ness of real living and the lack of a true magical moment of transformation.


For what it's worth, I think having a baby biologically must be the only true moment of transformation; you may think of yourself as a mother or a father before that, but in a single moment, you become the mother or father of that baby. So THE single magical moment, at least, does exist for some folks!

Le Fridge.

As a potential boring ol' homeowner, please allow me a brief rant on refrigerators...

Why on earth is a unit with a freezer on the top and a fridge on the bottom called a "top mount refrigerator"?? And while I'll agree it is consistent, the kind with a fridge on the top and a freezer on the bottom is called a "bottom mount refrigerator"?? What? Ugh.

And speaking of top versus bottom mount... NO, it's not what she said... but rather, let me sing the praises of a bottom mount fridge. You can see all the food, you don't crouch down to get veggies out, the part you use less is out of the way... genius, right?! Genius! I grew up with one, and I'ma gunna get one in my new home.

(Yes, of course, a French-door fridge is really the way to go but *eek*! The prices!)

Learning on the fly.

Buying a house is a whole lot like planning a wedding... they are both things you don't learn to do till you're in the midst of doing them, and they're things that don't get repeated with enough (or ever) frequency to really get good at it (at least for most of us plebs).

So, a couple more comparisons betwixt the two:

Like women who buy a wedding dress and then inexplicably KEEP LOOKING at dresses, there are those who encourage me to keep looking at houses. No, thank you very much! Until/unless the inspection goes bad, this house is a lovely first one for us, and I'll be keeping my nose off the realty websites, indeedy.

And like figuring out how to book a wedding venue whilst picking out flowers and clothes that coordinate with the vibe of said unknown venue... this is much the same as paying for various inspections (sewer, oil tank, regular, radon) while choosing a lender while thinking about putting in notice at your current place while, while, while.

More news from the front as developments roll in!