Bring on the Light Brigade

Keith Graham is an electrician wizard of destiny.  For all of you in and around Nogales, remember his name.  Keith Graham.  He and his army of trained professionals will be coming to my house on Thursday to install flood lights, motion detectors, and some new switches.  The cost is so reasonable that it is practically free. 

We talked on the phone about his estimate, and he was almost apologetic about the cost because he saw how (un)furnished my house is, must have noticed I was on day 4 of my favorite jeans, and figured that since it didn't look like I had brushed my hair, I must have sold my brush to buy ramen noodles. 

My theory of electricity:  hire someone who is actually trained to do electrical work.  If the company has the word "Electric" in the name and it is backed up by some kind of bonding or licensing process, even better.  Especially hire that person when no less than 5 of your friends recommend that person. 

I explained to Keith that I could find some two-bit schmo to do some wiring and electrical work, and then I would die in my sleep as the house burned down.  I could also do the work myself and skip all the "will I or won't I die" drama by just electrocuting myself during installation.  What would Bhodi do if I electrocuted myself?  Keith's reasonable estimate will be cheaper in the long run and a lot less deathy. 

So, if you have been saving up your pennies for a private trip into space, wait until this weekend when you will be able to identify my house from the most distant reaches of the galaxy. 

There's no C in the Pool...or P for that matter.

So I finally decided to delve into the whole pool maintenance thing.  The former owners were kind enough to leave me a broken pool vacuum, a broken pool vacuum stick, a broken vacuum hose, and a pump with an automatic timer.  After some online searching, I decided to invest in all of these things plus some crazy bags of stuff called "pool shock" and a deluxe testing kit. 

I figured testing the water was a good place to start.  Step one: put some pool water in the testing thing.  Add 5 drops of this and 5 drops of that, match water color to the indicator thingy to know how much chlorine I have in the pool.  The answer: Zero.  No chlorine.  None.  Not a drop.  Not a part per million. 

Step 2, check the ph of the pool.  Add more pool water to the tester.  A few more drops of something else.  Match the color.  Too much ph. I am over-ph'd.  Ph to the max. 

All of the things I have to add to fix these problems of course rely on knowing how many gallons of water the pool has.  After some measuring and some online easy converters, I found total volume, did some more math, found some chemicals, and now the pool is stewing outside.   

The moral of this story is: having a pool is a pain.  I might have to do some soul searching and could decide that while a pool sucks, a huge fish pond might be easier. 

Vacuuming the pool, however, is fascinating, like peeling dried glue off your hands or getting a Zen rock garden.  I could vacuum a pool all day.  And skimming...don't even get me started on the joys of skimming. 

Baby Rattlesnake Born Again

I found the coffee can with the rattlesnake.  The good news for the snake...it was still alive.  The bad news for me...it was still alive AND they hadn't bothered to put a lid on the can.  I can't recall how many times I messed around in that area of the garage and walked by that can without knowing the snake was there, watching, thinking about getting out, dreaming of food because it was probably freaking starving. 

I quickly found a lid and closed up the can.  Then I started to feel sad for the baby snake.  What a horrible way to go, trapped in a cheap coffee can, hungry, suffocating, sliding around in your own pooh.  So, I put the can in my car, drove and drove and drove until I found a nice area, and I did the rattlesnake fling, launching it into a nice little wash with some vegetation and rattlesnake hiding crevices. 

Dear Rattlesnake Gods, please know that I spared one of your own.  If you could draft the memo to all other rattlesnakes in the county that they should stay out of my yard and my house and my pool, I would greatly appreciate it. 

Time to Sell the House

In case you haven't heard, I officially closed on the House with Character.  I was in the process of shuttling my meager belonging over there, checking on the new cat, tidying up the place, and whatnot.  Unfortunately, I am going to have to undo all of that work because I have to sell my new house. 

It seems that the former owners' son found a baby rattlesnake in the pool.  That's right folks.  A baby rattlesnake...the size of a worm, hard to detect, and full of venom.  I don't think I can ever swim in the pool, go in the yard, or close my eyes to sleep in the house. 

The true joy is that the son put the rattlesnake in a coffee can in the garage and forgot to throw it away when the final move happened.  I am hoping it is dead in the coffee can, but even so, its ghost is there to haunt me for the rest of my rattlesnake fearing days. 

The Beginning of the End of All Happiness?

It seems that a girl can go on vacation to Alaska, and the home buying process keeps on keeping on without me needing to be here at all.  Last week an appraiser came to the house to make sure it is actually worth equal to or more than the amount of the loan I am trying to get.  The appraiser:  they can make or break you with the single flourish of a cheap pen.  If they value the property below the loan amount, then my boots better be made for walkin, because that is what I will have to do....walk, slowly, away from the house with character. 

What I didn't realize with an appraiser is they can request things to be fixed in addition to the things I already requested be fixed, i.e. new roof (ganga score on my part).  The word appraiser implies that they appraise:  to evaluate the worth, significance, or status of; especially : to give an expert judgment of the value or merit of (my house). 

According to the realtor who heard from the mortgage guy who heard from the appraiser, they want some minor things corrected.  What?  Maybe I am starting to implode from having too many people doing too many things.  Maybe that is the problem.  I mean, if it is something to correct, great, but again, aren't they establishing value and not doing a Home Inspection?  That is what the home inspector is for, yes?  no?  who knows?  

I think I need to go back to Alaska and let my people finalize this deal without me being in the middle of it.  When I come back, I hope they will have moved all of my things into the new house. 

Houses with Character

I am currently trying to buy a house with character.  It has nooks and crannies and stuff.  It also is 20 years old.  Do you know the average lifespan of a roof?  If you guessed approximately 20 years, you would be close.  The house also has freeloaders in the form of termites. They say there are two kinds of houses in Arizona: those with termites and those that are going to have termites.  So, termites are not a huge deal unless you have a special kind of termite that involves tenting the whole house and fumigating.  Thankfully, there will be no tenting in my future. 

I just had my second ever home inspection, and Hunky Home Inspector is one thorough inspecting machine.  We spent 2 1/2 hours in the heat going over every detail of the house, and the resulting report is 32 pages long.  It includes things that are right, recommendations, things out of code, and things that need to be addressed, including the roof and minor rot.  I did get a discount because it was my second home inspection with them...or did I get the discount because I am cute and outgoing?  Only Hunky Home Inspector can tell you the real reason. 

I am not sure what happened with the haircut between inspection one and inspection two, and we had been outside for a very long time at this point, but this is what a home inspector should look like.  I have to say, the picture does not convey the added cuteness factor that comes with experiencing the know-how firsthand.  What doesn't this guy know?  Maybe macrame, but if you ask me, my money is on HHInspector knowing macrame. 

So, this is the part where a bunch of people talk to a bunch of people and there is the looming terror of the appraiser and closing and the unknown things that are bound to come up in this process.  I am 1/2 a step close to owning a house.  That could all fall apart between now and September 15, which is the current closing date. 



  

Home Again, Home Again, Dancing a Jig

Despite getting my hopes up about a ganga deal on a house and signing papers and talking to Mr. Realtor who talked to Mr. Seller who talked to Ms. Fannie Mae several times, the house I was looking at has been set free, released back into the market for another sucker to buy.  Mr. Realtor told them to talk a long walk off of a short, lopsided, broken sidewalk to hell.  So long block house.  So long broken doors.  So long abandoned van.  So long broken furnace. 

I was into the notion of a fixer-upper, a blank canvas of landscaping, and a challenge to my limited carpentry abilities.  However, things work out the way they do for a reason, and this reason was so I could find another place.  Earlier this week I said, "Helloooooooooo house of destiny!"  Two words:  mature trees.  Another two words: abundant character.  I should also mention fireplace, fireplace, fireplace.  3 fireplaces to be exact. 

In abandoning what looked like a great deal but which would have turned into a lingering nightmare, I found a place that is awesome.  So, I signed more papers today, Mr. Realtor will be talking to Mr. and Ms. Sellers, and we shall see what happens. 

Another bonus:  Hello again Mr. Hunky Home Inspector.  I will let you know how it goes....with the home buying of course.