I love my house. I hate my house. I love my house. I hate my house.
So. My house.
I fell in love with it when I was house-hunting after my divorce. I'd had one offer fall through, was getting a bit discouraged at the stuff in my price point, and then I found this beauty... 1933 bungalow, all hardwood, original oak built-ins, original brass door hardware (glass knobs, the works). Needed some TLC, but mostly cosmetic. Great structure. Big yard. Detached garage. And recently reduced.
But it was bank-owned. Apparently, according to the neighbors (oh, gossip - what fun), the family who previously owned the house went through a nasty divorce. The husband, in a fit of pique, took the pool with him when he moved out. The wife (in retaliation? Out of inability to pay? Don't know.) sat on the house for three years without paying the mortgage. So there were things that could have been in better shape. A long list of projects that I could get to in due time.
Riiiiiight. Projects have a way of making themselves shoot up on the priority list.
On my project list, I currently have:
- An uncapped chimney that I REALLY need to get fixed.
- Boarded-up basement windows that I figured I could replace whenever.
- A leaky bulkhead that I threw a tarp over and figured I could replace whenever (you getting the idea yet)
- other, outdoor things that I decided to do now while it was summer
And mother nature decided to tell me, via the bajillion or so inches of rain we've gotten over the last month, that my project priorities are all wrong.
In the form of mold beginning to grow all over the ceiling and random objects in the cellar, due to a damp, musty basement with no air flow. Sigh.
So tonight, P is south with M1.
My first, emotional, knee-jerk response (after the "Oh, no, no, no, no, noooooo!") was, "Why the hell does this stuff always happen when I'm alone," followed by a twinge of abandonment and resentment that he splits his time like he does.
I hate reacting like that. Luckily, I've gotten a bit better at pulling myself out of that emotional negativity before it gets ugly. Not perfect, but hey. I texted P with the wonderful news, he called, and we have a plan. Getting some stuff researched while I type, actually.
What do I tell myself to quit the spiral? "Well, you could REALLY be alone and not have anyone to call, so quit it." Sometimes I need to "tough love" myself, I guess. *shrug*
Reminds me of a story...
(Queue the "Wayne's World" guys doing that 'doodledeedoot' thing, and I'll meet you in the next post, so as not to hit the character limit...)
Mono. Divorced, two kids (DanceGirl, 15; and PokéGirl, 12), two cats, one house, many projects.
My partner. Poly.
Chops' other nesting partner, Poly. Also in a relationship with Shaggy
Chops' other other partner (heh). Married, Poly.
Poly, in a relationship with Xena
External mono/poly blog: From Baltic to Boardwalk