Since I last wrote, I have calmed down and things are under control.
The pole barn is completely empty.
The front garage is 99.99% empty
The cellar is 99.99% empty of junk.
The attic and second floor bedrooms are 99.99% empty of junk.
The living room is 99.99% empty of junk.
The septic system had to be replaced and that was completed today. A new tank was installed, and a leach field was put in, something that was lacking previously. Now when the toilet is flushed,there is no odor coming back. It cost big bucks -- $7,500 -- but it had to be done and frankly, I'm glad because things are now functioning properly.
I am at the point that I've been focused on since shortly after Ron died: Cleaning up all the stuff around here and putting the house on the market. It could be 3 weeks, 3 months or 3 years, but eventually the house will sell, even with all its issues. It would be a gift if it sold this summer.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
ANGRY!!!
If Ron weren't dead, I swear I'd kill him. The straw that broke the camel's back, I suppose, happened tonight. His stupid, fucking stupid glider rocking chair broke. It has broken at least two other times since I moved in three years ago. Ron turns it over, takes the huge bolt, shoves it in, does something, hurts his hand, says, "We gotta replace this thing," and then because it kind of works again, a new chair is never bought.
Tonight the stupid fucking chair is out on the terrace because it broke. I tried to fix it and almost broke my finger, but thankfully only severely bruised it. When that happened, I said, "This time it WILL be replaced," and dragged it outside. Stupid fucking thing.
This sent me over the edge. I cried. I screamed. I would have thrown something but Em was here. I hate this house. I hate living here. I hate all the furniture that was his, and I mean literally hate it. I hate having a garage 200 feet away from the back door. I hate having the washer and dryer in the dirty, cobwebbed covered cellar. I hate having only one bathroom, on the first floor no less, while the bedrooms are on the second floor. I hate living here alone without Ron!!
I hate being cold all the time and being unable to keep the house warm because there is no insulation.
I hate that in the coldest month of the winter it can cost $1,000 to heat.. for just that one month!!!
Pretty much I hate old houses. I admire them -- when they belong to someone else. If this weren't my house now, I'd say, "Wow... 219 years old. It's amazing." And it is amazing, but it is a fucking pain in my ass.
I hate and resent having to clean out 30+ years of shit and crap that was his and Edie's. I hate having to deal with trades people, from the guy who fixes lawnmowers to the guy who's delivering and spreading three loads of gravel for the driveway tomorrow.
I am pissed that it will cost me between $1,000 and $2,000 to get everything cleaned out that can't be sold. The cellar is chock full of stuff..... useless, broken, no good stuff. The next person who says to me, "But ya never know when that stuff will come in handy," is going to get a hard kick in the balls. Yes, balls, because only a man keeps stuff "just in case."
I am crazed that the septic system hasn't been attended to in decades and that it has serious problems. Serious enough that it will probably be the reason the house won't sell unless I replace it -- at a cost of God knows what!
I dislike Greenville. I have no fondness for it at all. If this house ever does sell, I know I will shed tears because I'll be leaving the place where Ron and I lived and loved, but I know the closer I get to where I came from, the bigger my smile will grow.
Tomorrow the gravel guy dumps three loads of gravel and spreads it on the driveway. Only in the fucking country do they have hard-packed gravel. City folk are civilized. They have driveways that are paved, and they also have garages that aren't 100 feet away from the house.
If Ron were still alive, none of this would, of course, matter. He'd deal with tradespeople or do the work himself and I wouldn't care about the cellar or old septic system because though Ron took lousy care of everything, he took wonderful care of the woman he loved. Nobody but nobody can love and show and express that love like Ron did. I was wrapped in it. I felt it in every cell of my body. I knew without a doubt that the most important thing in his life was me and my happiness. ::sigh::
Tonight the stupid fucking chair is out on the terrace because it broke. I tried to fix it and almost broke my finger, but thankfully only severely bruised it. When that happened, I said, "This time it WILL be replaced," and dragged it outside. Stupid fucking thing.
This sent me over the edge. I cried. I screamed. I would have thrown something but Em was here. I hate this house. I hate living here. I hate all the furniture that was his, and I mean literally hate it. I hate having a garage 200 feet away from the back door. I hate having the washer and dryer in the dirty, cobwebbed covered cellar. I hate having only one bathroom, on the first floor no less, while the bedrooms are on the second floor. I hate living here alone without Ron!!
I hate being cold all the time and being unable to keep the house warm because there is no insulation.
I hate that in the coldest month of the winter it can cost $1,000 to heat.. for just that one month!!!
Pretty much I hate old houses. I admire them -- when they belong to someone else. If this weren't my house now, I'd say, "Wow... 219 years old. It's amazing." And it is amazing, but it is a fucking pain in my ass.
I hate and resent having to clean out 30+ years of shit and crap that was his and Edie's. I hate having to deal with trades people, from the guy who fixes lawnmowers to the guy who's delivering and spreading three loads of gravel for the driveway tomorrow.
I am pissed that it will cost me between $1,000 and $2,000 to get everything cleaned out that can't be sold. The cellar is chock full of stuff..... useless, broken, no good stuff. The next person who says to me, "But ya never know when that stuff will come in handy," is going to get a hard kick in the balls. Yes, balls, because only a man keeps stuff "just in case."
I am crazed that the septic system hasn't been attended to in decades and that it has serious problems. Serious enough that it will probably be the reason the house won't sell unless I replace it -- at a cost of God knows what!
I dislike Greenville. I have no fondness for it at all. If this house ever does sell, I know I will shed tears because I'll be leaving the place where Ron and I lived and loved, but I know the closer I get to where I came from, the bigger my smile will grow.
Tomorrow the gravel guy dumps three loads of gravel and spreads it on the driveway. Only in the fucking country do they have hard-packed gravel. City folk are civilized. They have driveways that are paved, and they also have garages that aren't 100 feet away from the house.
If Ron were still alive, none of this would, of course, matter. He'd deal with tradespeople or do the work himself and I wouldn't care about the cellar or old septic system because though Ron took lousy care of everything, he took wonderful care of the woman he loved. Nobody but nobody can love and show and express that love like Ron did. I was wrapped in it. I felt it in every cell of my body. I knew without a doubt that the most important thing in his life was me and my happiness. ::sigh::
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