Do you believe in karma? Paying for past sins, for things done in a previous life? Coincidence? Free will, predestination?
Because I’m wondering just who the hell we pissed off in a previous life.
When things go silent here on this site, it’s because life outside the computer has reached a level of stress that is not healthy nor wise to share. Right now things are worse than usual, and strangely enough, have nothing to do with either child, their education, giftedness, or parenting. Believe it or not, stuff in that arena is actually pleasant. Or the rest of the crap is just making that insanity unnoticeable.
It’s bad around here, yo.
While there is a lot right now I cannot discuss, I can sure as hell talk about this. We are living in the effing Money Pit. If I EVER move again, I will only live in a new build. Spoiled? I can live with that description. But this house has killed any desire I have ever had of living anywhere but somewhere brand spanking new, where the builder will fix shit the first year, and everything is still under warranty. This house is 45 years old, we are the fifth owners in roughly 15 years, the deferred maintenance is stomach-churning, and somewhere a few owners back the guy thought he was Norm Abram when he was more Homer Simpson.
Since moving in at the end of July, we have:
Had a tree guy come and remove the dead branches of the ginormous maple trees behind our house, and shore them up so if GODFORBID a heavy limb came off it would be less likely to come down through the roof.
Cleaned out several years worth of muck from the ducts, including the discovery of a baseball in the duct nearest the furnace, a gift from a kid two or so owners ago.
Had the fireplace and chimney cleaned, inspected, and repaired, because that too had not been done
ever recently and we didn’t want to die.
Had the roof inspected and repaired.
Had the sewer line inspected and rodded so we didn’t have the unholy nightmare of a backed up sewer line, courtesy of the property’s huge trees and roots.
Had the furnace inspected, cleaned, and parts repaired, because it sounded (and still does) like the main runway at O’Hare when it cranks up. Apparently that’s normal. I have a slightly different definition of normal.
Had an exterminator out here twice, because the mice and spiders were a wee bit of a problem.
Had an electrician out here for the mother of all repairs. New circuit box, new receptacles and switches, repaired THE EXPOSED WIRES NOT IN CONDUIT in the crawlspace, inspected and repaired the JACKED UP SPLICES, replaced wires that just flat-out broke, and basically made the house electrically safe.
Needless to say, my Angie’s List membership has more than paid for itself.
I grew up in an early 20th century Chicago Bungalow and I don’t remember my parents ever having this kind of trouble.
Earlier this week the dishwasher finally went under for the third time. Tom had made it his personal mission to reboot it every time it crashed, and finally the Dishwasher Whisperer conceded defeat. Today the repairman came out to take a little looksee, and the verdict? Cheaper to buy a new dishwasher. Now, while I loves me some dishwasher action, I’m not averse to handwashing my dishes if it means I don’t have to go drop several hundred dollars on an appliance right now.
But. There had to be a but.
He and I discovered a rather significant leak in the pipes under the kitchen sink. A major pipe had rusted through.
So I ask you? Is it karma? Who did I piss off and how can I make amends? Because as strong and resilient as I may be, there’s not much more left here in reserves.