Where is our house update? I’m sure you have been wondering. Well, that’s what Lynn and I have been wondering too, and I don’t know that I have much to tell you except we’re waiting. And waiting.
Every day Lynn and Oz go out to the house, and every day she brings back a similar report: a little more baseboard is in place. Some bits of work have been done on closets and, as I discovered while we were conducting a tour for friends on Sunday, dents and dings abound on the walls.
Our heat recovery ventilator is in place, so I guess that’s new, but mostly it feels like we are Chuck Woolery, presiding over a contest to see which sub-contractor might match up with us. At this point we’d take Bachelor 1, 2 or 3, and we don’t care how any of them look or what they like to do on moonlit nights.
Bachelor Number 1 would be the Concrete Guy. Dusty called him a couple of weeks ago “to try to nudge him along,” and discovered that Justin was not in a mood to be nudged. I had already gathered from Dusty that Justin has a firm command of his Anglo-Saxon, and apparently he unleashed it in full force when Dusty wanted to know when he might manage a drive-by pouring.
Bachelor Number 2 would be Casias, which I’m pretty sure is a man’s last name and possibly the name of his stucco business. He lives in Montrose, 60 miles west, and while all his supplies for both stone and stucco have been parked around the house for weeks, the promise that he would begin work the third week of June now seems a bit suspect. Just a bit.
And let’s not forget Bachelor Number 3, Atmos Gas. Did you know it costs $1,700 just to apply for a date with him? I sure hope he’s worth it, although so far, not so much. We certainly won’t be banking on him for punctuality, because I believe Atmos told Dusty they would get back to him in early May. Let’s start counting now . . .
Dusty did one day corral a local technician and drag him out to the lot, which apparently the company doesn’t like you to do, and now we’ve paid this horrendous fee that I’m hoping is really more than a “service application fee,” like maybe it gets applied toward the cost of digging the gas line or something that’s real. Of course, we had to pay some fee to the electric company too, even though everything was already installed, so maybe utilities just love their fees. But that makes it hard to want to cozy up to them if we already know they’re just using us for our money.
In this version of the game, it feels like there’s a fourth bachelor, and that would be our contractor himself. We understand there’s only so much he can do to try to goad these other entities along, but somehow it feels like the urgency has gone out of his game, too.
His plan was to get us in the house at the end of June. And then he — and I’m placing this one firmly on him, because Lynn asked and asked — waited too long to start the kitchen cabinet process, which is going to push us back to mid, probably late August. He does know we’re supposed to close on our house sale on August 16, so I think this has been established as his new target date.
This delay seems to have slowed everything his crew is doing. Decking has been sitting alongside the frame for at least a couple of weeks; the fireplace trim that he insisted we had to settle on a month ago still has not materialized.
The washer and dryer should be available, along with laundry room cabinetry, but there’s been no sense that we might want to get any of that installed. The boiler, which my mother asks about every time I talk to her, and which Dusty sounded like would be in operation before the floors went down to help acclimatize them, is not only not in place, I don’t think it’s anywhere on the premises.
There are no closet shelves. Closet doors may be stained but aren’t installed. The pantry still stands empty of shelving. Apparently we’re just going to limp through July, putting baseboard in one room every other day or so and moving dirt around the outside of the house for purposes unknown, and then perhaps fly into a frenzy on August 1 in an effort to give us somewhere to go after we sign on the dotted line with people universally acclaimed as charming but who have been giant buttheads to us through the house sale process.
Which appears to be moving forward. An appraiser was supposed to have come yesterday. I’m not sure why anyone bothers with that, because Audrie said the appraisal always comes in around the sale price. My mom said they tried to legislate that practice out of existence, but apparently that’s how it still works. You’d think it would just be a lot cheaper if the appraiser stayed home, took the number off the contract and wrote it on a form. Cheaper, but not as lucrative, I guess.
Assuming the appraiser showed up. He (I’m guessing, because I think every one of them in town is male) was supposed to have been here at 10, but I forgot all about him and didn’t leave until 10, and we didn’t cross paths.
Well, with that commercial interlude, it sounds as though we may have a winner: I just got off the phone with Dusty, who is out at our house watching concrete being poured.
Not that the other bachelors are completely out of the running: someone has “called locates,” which Dusty is assuming was Atmos; and Casias has dropped off scaffolding, although Dusty cautioned that might be more looks than substance.
So today’s lesson is: if you play the game long enough, something is bound to come to fruition.