Is it the third week of June already?
Cynicism is setting in at the Schumann-Livermore household(s), to the point that when stucco work commenced on the Some Day House yesterday, at long last, Lynn and I both made the assumption that it’s a token appearance, designed to appease us. “Oh, look, they’ve started,” like that will make us happy for the next month before the crew returns to continue.
We can hope we’re wrong, and that work continues today. It’s not going to be the fast process Dusty imagined for us, because it apparently took a full day to put this black stuff (Made in the USA, it says, but I don’t know what it is or who makes it) on the west side of the house, along with a tiny stretch of chicken wire.
Dusty also told us electrical work would take place evenings this week, but the electrical evening differs from ours, since we were there at 7 with no electricians in sight. Like stuccoists (that’s what they’re called, right?), they left evidence of their presence — opened boxes, light fixtures in a room that didn’t previously have them, perhaps more outlet faceplates — but it doesn’t seem like we’re in danger of breaking land-speed records.
Lynn and I are trying to take a zen approach, but it’s not really working, especially now that our back-up plan for a place to live fell through on Sunday when Kent Baril decided he would likely have need of his parents’ house. Dusty, who recently completely a remodel of Jay Peck’s old house, had kind of toyed with letting us move there, but in our conversation yesterday he didn’t sound like he really wanted to make that offer, particularly not to pets . . . we are back to facing the prospect of homelessness around Aug. 14.
We don’t close until Aug. 16, but apparently there’s a “walk-through” that takes place up to three days prior to closing, and it’s at that point, not the 16th, that the house has to be empty and clean. (And of course yesterday the buyers wanted to move the closing up to Aug. 9. Never going to happen.)
Lynn used Facebook, which neither of us is proficient at, last night to attempt to contact a local trio who were recommended to us as movers. We have decided to schedule this for Aug. 9-11. That’s a week later than Dusty is planning for a partial electrical inspection that would allow us to store our life accoutrements in the garage and the bedrooms.
Our Some Day plumber neighbors told us we could get a temporary certificate of occupancy without stucco as long as we had one fully functional bathroom (they didn’t say whether we had to have a kitchen), but Dusty didn’t think that was the case. And since our plumber is in North Carolina (no wonder he never has time for work — he’s always traveling), I don’t know when we might find that out.
Dusty seems to be trusting in the universe for all the stars to align as we need them to, and I have no idea why this seems like a good plan, since almost no one has shown up or completed their work on schedule at any point in this process. The boiler, for instance, which is still persona non grata, was going to be in place in time to heat the floors as they were installed.
Even the things we order from companies who pin their reputation on reliable delivery are failing. We ordered a mini-fridge from Walmart, for the animal feeding station in the laundry/mud/everything-plus-the-utility-sink room. According to Lynn’s tracking, it made it to Henderson, Colorado, (I have no idea where that is) before departing for Iowa, and it has yet to return to Colorado or arrive at the store here.
Or our internet. Lynn spent some time trying to sign us up with Spectrum, formerly Time Warner, and apparently only one of two choices, the other being CenturyLink, available at Riverwalk. Who knew cottonwoods were such an effective screen of modern technology? She met some technician out at the lot, and he was very vague about when we might get service delivered, and whether that would include both the running o’ the line and installation of the modem/router/whatever, but she finally got a date and a two-hour window.
But her confirmation never arrived, and while she was packing Sunday she spent easily an hour on the phone with Spectrum, getting a royal runaround and repeating herself endlessly. Our appointment was not anywhere in their system, so they gave us another one (which might be today?), with an eight-hour window and again no confirmation . . . assuming it ever gets installed, our two Some Day neighbors who use Spectrum say it works all right, and it’s about half the price of the local company we currently use, but I can’t stand dealing with large companies for things like this. Can’t live with them, can’t live without.
We haven’t yet broached the conversation with the satellite company about moving the TV, and I’m wondering if we’re going to have the same problem with the trees. And they probably can’t mount a dish until stucco is done, which may not be this year — I told you cynicism is setting in here.
There are no shelves in closets; I asked Dusty yesterday why we couldn’t be putting the laundry room pieces together, since everything is here (except perhaps the utility sink, probably touring the country like every other thing we’ve ordered), and he thought, maybe this week, maybe next. Of course, he took a four-day weekend to spend time with his visiting father, a weekend that then extended into yesterday, since that was his anniversary.
I don’t know why people are trying to have lives when Lynn and I need a house finished pronto.
[My bicycle chat room is not even a distraction today, because one of the men in it is in the midst of moving across Tennessee, and because the stage is slow everyone is discussing how much they hate moving and how stressful it is. And how much stuff they each have. They must be my peeps, though, because they’re all confessing to having lots of books.]
If any of you feel inclined to help, you can prostrate yourself before whatever higher power you might adhere to and ask those stars in Dusty’s universe to align so that everything comes together before Lynn and I find ourselves on the street.