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J. GEISTER  |
of Being A Home Owner  "Well, Pat, now we know how tangerine looks over chocolate brown!" |
Bunnies in the basement, tangerine walls--so surreal!
By PATRICIA J. GEISTER
for TheColumnists.com
You say you’re going to remodel your home? I will pray for you. All kidding aside, you have my sympathy. I've been remodeling our home for 35 years. Yet I'd flood it rather than pack up and move.
When my former spouse and I moved into this castle, the kitchen needed to be sandblasted from floor to ceiling. I had to use oven cleaner to remove the baked-on grease and dirt from inside one cabinet. I had visions of donning a mask and using a fire hose to loosen the grunge and debris.
On that first day in residence, I sent the kids to play in the basement. Immediately they shouted, "Mama! Mama! The Easter Bunny is down here!" The teen aged daughters of the previous owner claimed the bunny later. Of course, the bunny had left lots of evidence. It's a big basement and he was a big bunny. I was still finding "smart pills" weeks later.
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Could you hurry and fix the furnace. We're freezing down here!" |
Our bedroom walls were bright tangerine. I had to wear sunglasses to get any sleep. My kitchen was pink, blue and red. The main bathroom was pink and blue. The half bath upstairs was bright purple. When we painted the living room there was evidence above one door that once it had been chocolate brown. Both the dining and living rooms had been painted something between moss green and bruise yellow. I've always suspected that there had been a paint store salesperson in our home’s past. If so, it was a cheap brand and they pandered to the colorblind.
Before we had our first house guests I got the bright idea to repaint the entire first floor. I wanted a shade of off white. Years of living in Air Force housing had taught me that. My then spouse couldn't make a paint brush fit his hand. "I'll do it when I get time," only he never did. Four days before our company arrived, I devised a fool proof plan. I confronted him with three buckets of white paint and one spray can of caution orange. Shaking the can vigorously, I told him,"Either you get to work on painting, right now, or I'll use this to write dirty words all over the walls!" Oh, yes, that ultimatum was delivered at the top of my lungs. He painted.
The next day he was about to sneak out the back door when I caught him."I'm going SCUBA diving today. See ya."
My calm, steely cold response was, "Paint or die." It worked.
Then there was the carpeting. It was a cheap grade, motley brown, extremely thin floor covering. I'll bet it looked dirty when it was new. They had a couple of poodles that never were house broken. I guess they were afraid to go outdoors to "do their business." Judging by the large, ancient urine stains I'd say business was good in the living room.
A group of vandals broke into the house one day and tried to set a fire. An observant neighbor called the police. The carpeting wouldn't burn, only smolder and melt. Our insurance covered the cost of replacing that gawd-awful stuff. It's not easy to thank someone you're prosecuting, but (silently) I did.
St. Rupert the Husband is the total opposite of my late mate. During our first year of marriage he gave me a choice: Either we could totally remodel the house, inside and out, or we could buy another one. There was an offer I couldn't refuse. My better judgment chose to remodel. Over a period of three years we hired a series of contractors. They installed new siding, thermal windows, gutters, back porch, and roof. Rupert rewired the house during that time. Good thing he did, too. There were extension cords inside the walls. Most of them were charred.
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Next time we're buying a mobile home!" |
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Our kitchen is now a combination of red and white. I love all the new wooden cabinets. The saint installed a utensil rack overhead near the corner windows. This room is a joy to behold or work in. He's always coming up with good ideas.
My flowerbeds are the envy of the block. Our humble home was transformed from average to model status. I bought it for $17,500. In the past 15 years I'd guess we've spent almost twice that much on improvements. If we put it on the market tomorrow we'd easily get it sold. No way! We didn't suffer through all this to see somebody else reap the benefit. It's nearly a hundred years old, and it's no plywood palace. This house was built to last, and last it shall.
Next month the bathrooms are being remodeled. St. Rupert the Husband goes into withdrawal symptoms if we don't hire a contractor every 18 months. Ah, the joys of being a home owner!
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