My parents, Nana and Grandad, go to a writing workshop every week. This week Mom was inspired by recent tale from the Money Sink, and wrote the following...
Home Ownership
written by Nana, 1/2013
Stuart woke up with a start – warm and cozy, surrounded by pillows, the bed piled high with down comforters, all should be well, but something seemed amiss.
Easing put of his cocoon, he instantly knew what the problem was. His nose was cold and as he started to speak to Melissa, he could see his breath in chill air. No use waking her, this could only mean one thing – the %@&#!ing furnace they had been sweet-talking and babying all winter was on the blink – AGAIN.
Leaping from the bed he grabbed the nearest article of clothing – Melissa's fluffy pink bathrobe. Not his first choice, but it would do until the current situation WAS remedied.
Gingerly he headed for the basement, taking note of the 42° reading on the thermostat as he skirted through the living room. Sure enough, suspicions were confirmed when he saw that the pilot light had, once again, gone out. An easy fix, and with luck the house will have warmed up by the time Melissa and James woke up.
When they saw the house last summer, it seemed like a perfect fit for their growing family – a three story Victorian, it radiated quaintness in style. Yes, there were a few obvious things that needed fixing – but didn't he pride himself on being a jack-of-all-trades, able to fix anything.
Pride cometh before the fall. No use going there. Although this house had many redeeming features, after living here for six months, he was beginning to keep a tally – and lately the “repair or replace” side of the equation was winning out.
Was it really possible that the roof leaked. The sagging drywall on the third floor was a definite hint. The plaster wasn't actually falling off the ceiling, and thankfully James wasn't old enough or tall enough to investigate the numerous cracks.
The early winter's oil bill was a shock. He had checked out the previous owners usage history with the utility company but assumed the report was full of typos – surely an extra “0” had been added to the amount, or the cost was for several months. Sadly, he was mistaken.
They began wearing more sweaters, the coffee they had given up became a staple. Visitors were welcomed in, then offered a blanket, cap and slippers –just in case they were a bit cold. 60° became the daytime norm, dropping to 55° at night, and still last month's bill was $900.
The utility company offered a free energy audit. Insulation, it turned lout, was not an automatic requirement when building a house in 1900, and was entirely missing from their quaint home.
But, since mold could become an issue, the inspector recommended fixing the water issues in the basement before insulating. The sump pump tried to remove the water, but only helped a three-foot sink hole form by the foundation directing the flow back inside after a freak hurricane drenched the area shortly after they moved in.
With each repair estimated at $10,000 or more and an already-stretched bank account eroding, bundling up seemed an obvious solution – that and praying for winter warm-up and an early spring. For now, he could feel fire once again roaring in the unit.
With thoughts of catching a few more winks, cuddling up to his beautiful wife's warm body, he started the cold jaunt back to the bedroom. On his way, walking over gleaming hardwood floors, past his son's room with the hand painted mural on the wall and a sleeping cherub in his crib, suddenly he felt blessed. Life, even with it's challenges is good. He had so much to be thankful for.
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