Soul Thumping

Do You Have Enough Area Rugs in YOUR Retirement Investment Portfolio?

We put our living room carpet out of its misery and put down hardwoods.  I don't know why, because our carpet was easily the coolest in the neighborhood.  I haven't seen inside every neighbor's home, but I'm guessing no one else had chichi beige carpet with DIY orange polka dots (the polka dots = cat vomit, but I did say it was DIY).

Now we have nice dark floors, and everything is in the swim, but we need an area rug because the ottoman slides around the floor when we prop our feet on the thing.

I naively assumed rug shopping would be easy.  We want a rug with some color, but it has to look ok with our light blue furniture.  On the color wheel of contrasts, I'm looking at yellows and oranges.  As you might imagine yellow and/or orange rugs are grotesque.  To complicate matters, we are looking for size 6X9, which limits our selection to the valley of the most heinous (5X8 and 8X10 seem to be the cool kids) area rugs ever created.

After an exhaustive search online, and some of the big box stores, Poseidon and I stopped by a local rug and carpeting gallery last month.  The salesperson was helpful, warm and friendly, but her, "You should think of an area rug as an investment" line hurt my head because I knew an area rug from her store was going to punch my wallet in the nose.  An investment?  An area rug in our home is going to be a place where cat vomit goes to die, while keeping the ottoman from sliding into the fireplace.

The rug search is still on, and I've viewed so many rug samples online that they appear in my dreams at night.  I've had to take long breaks from looking, simply to keep my sanity in check.

Not only are we still rugless, we apparently aren't properly diversified.  Stocks, bonds, mutual funds and area rugs seem to be the way to go.

--Amphitrite

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What to do With the Old Screen Door?

Two weeks ago, Poseidon and I had to replace the screen door that goes to the back deck because, well, Kwinn decided that he wanted to be an outdoor cat for a day and no silly screen was going to separate him from his dream.  The door was old, the screen and the wood rotting a slow death, so replacing the entire door, rather than just the screen, seemed like less hassle.

The "broken" screen door looks mighty lonely propped against the side of the house.  I'm almost weeping for the poor dear.  That door's fate, more likely than not, is to be a sad object in a landfill, unless, someone wants to give it a nice home?

I am no DIYer, but the old screen door is screaming, "Don't.  DO NOT abandon me in a junk pile.  I'm begging you."  Being that I'm a sucker for the sobs of inanimate objects, I googled "what to do with old doors."  Some of these ideas are clever, but when vintage/repurposing is no longer the au courant, many "recycled" treasures will become "what was I thinking" eyesores, headed to the dump, so I don't think I'll delay the inevitable, but I'll share a few pictures that made me think, "Ah, that is a cool idea."

(Source:  cottageandcabin.blogspot.com)

 

 

(Source:  www.faulknerphoto.com)

 

 

(Source:  Photo by Philip Mayer: www.flickr.com)

 

By the way, the new screen door has a thicker bottom screen (double-screen) made to turn a cat's dream of the great outdoors into just that...a dream.

--Amphitrite

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There Will be a New Roof in Town Tonight

I know very few people will care about this, and I'm only blogging about it because I'm bored, but as I was leaving the house for work this morning, the truck hauling our new shingles arrived!  The truck (and his driver, of course) sat waiting for the contractors to show
up.  Poseidon and I will (should) have a new roof by the time we get home tonight.

Two things I wanted to blab about this:

1.  As a relatively new homeowner, I just want to whine that it totally sucks to have to shell out money for something as uninteresting as a roof, but it must be done, as our current roof is now 20 years old.  Eh, I can't legitimately complain because I knew how old the roof was when I first bought the house.

2.  How cool is it that the roofing company installing (is that the proper term?) the new roof is James Taylor Construction?  We know the new roof will see some rain, but hopefully not fire.  Get it?  I told you I was bored.

--Amphitrite

Our Cats Have Trust Funds

A few months ago, Poseidon and I were discussing what we would do if we had trust funds, and after a bit of back and forth, we decided it didn't matter because we don't have trust funds.

The conversation-ender came from Poseidon, "The only beings in this house with trust funds are those cats." 

Not sure what made me think of that today.  Oh, wait, I know why I remember the conversation about trust funds:  Poseidon and I are going to have to make some not-so-cheap home repairs in the very near future, and those cats do not ever like to share.

 

--Amphritrite

Death by Acorns

I foresee an epic battle in my neighborhood; a battle so fierce that King Arthur himself would applaud me for my ferociousness.

I suppose I never thought of an acorn as a bitter enemy, something I need to take up arms against, but those buggers are doing their damnedest to put me in a shallow grave...early.

Last night was my third night of restless sleep due to Mother Nature's little brown cap-wearing nuisances dropping on my roof, and I'm ready to declare war.  I need my sleep or I'm going to be so cranky that Poseidon will lock me in the little people room.  I don't like the little people room.

Maybe you are thinking, "The acorn is a small tree nut, how much noise can one actually make?"  Perhaps I'm just being baby.  No, I don't think so.  An acorn or two plummeting to earth via my roof isn't such a big deal, but when a whole damn oak tree of acorns launch in one night, I'm thinking machine gun rounds couldn't be louder.  Just as I start slipping into a deep REM sleep, "BAM!" another acorn lands on the roof.

I'm going to head off on a slightly different path now, because a buried memory just came back to haunt me...

Several years ago, in my early twenties, my downtown apartment building was shaped like a U, with a courtyard in the middle, and during the fall, it was such a gorgeous place to live.  There was one particular week that I remember well.  As I walked from my building to the street, nearly everyday for the entire week, I was pelted, in the head, with an acorn from a HUGE oak tree in the courtyard.

The first couple of times this pelting happened, I thought very little of it.  The third day, I was irritated.  I looked up and I saw several squirrels scurrying along the branches.  Those little rats-with-tails were throwing acorns at me, on purpose.

Of course, I didn't really believe they were doing this to me intentionally, but now having seen the Geico commercial where the squirrels high-five each other when they cause near accidents, I'm not so sure.

Back to present day.  I can't decide if the acorns are falling from the oaks onto the house naturally, or if the squirrels are helping them, and by "helping" I mean hurling them like Olympic discus throwers because of the anti-squirrel bird feeder in the backyard?  Maybe I'm barking up the wrong tree (haha) with the acorn thing.  Perhaps it is the squirrels we need to defend our kingdom against?

photo from thedailycuteblog.com

 

 --Fortuitous Observer

Our Clutter Has Decided to Move Back Home - It Missed Us

Last year Poseidon and I put our house on the market, and we moved many of our belongings into a storage unit, at the request of our realtor (to de-clutter because you know, perspective buyers have no imagination and wouldn't be able to picture their clutter if our clutter was in the house).  7 months after taking our house off the market, we felt it was time to move our crap belongings back in with us.

Because we were renting a climate-controlled storage unit (for the protection of Poseidon's extensive CD and vinyl collection), the rental was pricey, and we have no other excuse (or reason) for keeping said clutter in the unit but procrastination.  So, on Saturday, we rented a truck, a UHaul pickup truck to be exact, and moved our clutter back home, where it belongs.  At the risk of hurting its feelings, I can honestly say, I didn't miss it.

In my head, our home went from this...nice clean lines:

Photo from Lan Truong | Allan Peters

 

 

To this...still fun but, um, chaotic:

Photo from design work life

 

It will take me a week, maybe longer, to visually adjust to all this "stuff" being back home and I'm mourning the loss of the bareness, but in the end, it is our clutter, and we welcome it back home with open arms.

 

--Fortuitous Observer

So I Ask Myself, "Is This the Hill You Want to Die on?"

"Is this the hill you want to die on?"

I asked myself this question yesterday after fuming over a voice mail message I received from a large home building supply store, I won't use their name, but it rhymes (more or less) with Chrome Repo.

The above mentioned message was in reference to a refrigerator that Poseidon and I ordered, scheduled for delivery this weekend.  Well, needless to say, Chrome Depot doesn't call customers merely to wish them a grand day, so I knew something was amiss.  The call was to inform us our appliance is currently on back-order and Chrome Repo regrets having to postpone the delivery until April 5th.  The woman leaving the message was pleasant enough, and for a second, I believe she actually felt bad for having to call with the news that our yogurt and vegetables will go to rot before our refrigerator is in place.

I was upset, and I'm not sure why, except that I had a childish sense of entitlement to have the appliance that we paid a handsome sum of money for (refrigerators I've newly discovered, are not cheap), delivered on the date agreed to.

I phoned the Chrome Depot customer service department back and told them the new date they gave me was not acceptable because either Poseidon or I will have to take off work to be there.  I asked why they advertise the product online as "available" if it was on back-order?  I was smoking angry, but I took a breath and told her I would check with their competitor--again, I won't use the company's name, but it rhymes with Blows--and if they had a comparable fridge in stock I would cancel my Chrome Repo order and go with Blows.  She was very apologetic, but nothing she can do.  I believed her.

Minutes after the call I was still piping mad and I was ready to call Blows to see if they could do anything for me.  My face was getting hot and my blood was boiling.  Then I asked myself the question:  "Is this the hill you want to die on?"  It's a refrigerator.  Do I want to expend anymore energy by calling Blows?  The principle of the thing had me keyed up and over the moon with annoyance, but we've survived a few months with a semi-broken fridge, we can survive another week.

So, no.  No, this isn't the hill I'm choosing to die on.  The hill we will be making out of our moldy vegetables, fetid chicken, and rancid milk might make me regret giving up without a true fight, but I'll march on to the next battle.  Now, if I can only find a flautist to accompany me.

 

--Fortuitous Observer

Strangers in Our House - Home Seller Hell

In May of this year, Poseidon and I put our house on the market.  We went through the entire process of making our lived-in home look like an unlived-in squeaky clean doll house, at our realtor's insistence.  We rented a storage unit and moved many of our more fun belongings into the storage space so that our home resembled something like a house maintained by a Stepford wife.

For 6 months we made the bed every morning upon rising, wiped down everything we touched, vacuumed more than should be legal, and scooped cat poop out of the litter box every morning (that is a lie...I scooped it out once or twice each week, tops).  We made sure toilet lids were down, cat hair was swept out of sight (which usually meant under the rug), our goofy Cleveland Browns night light in the bathroom was tucked inside of a drawer--I mean really, who wants to buy a house from people who actually root for Cleveland?  I even went as far as making sure our more liberal magazines in the bathroom magazine bins were shuffled to the back--I mean really, who wants to buy a house from a pair of socially liberal thinkers?

Poseidon and I actually kept a nice, clean, neat household for nearly 6 months.  We did this because strangers were/would be going through our home.  Strangers who would decide if our home was good enough to become their home.

Now, when I started writing this post, my intent was to mention that we've decided to take the house off the market and Poseidon and I will more than likely turn our apple-pie tidy house into a trash pile that could double as a model home for an episode of "Hoarders."  However, after mentioning the bit in the above paragraph about strangers exploring our home, my train of thought chugged down another track entirely:  there were actually creepy strangers in my home!

Not only did these interlopers peer into every room in our house, they examined and critiqued every nook and cranny.  One such ass, I mean, prospective buyer, went so far as to comment about a little tiny spider web that attached itself to our bedroom window while we were on vacation.  Give me a break you boorish nimrod, I mean prospective buyer.  My cat can knock down a spider web with one little whisker.  Spider webs aren't permanent fixtures that convey in a real estate transaction you degenerate, I mean potential buyer.

Another inane home shopper broke off a piece from our living room window (probably while trying to open it).  A woman house shopping for her daughter and new son-in-law commented to me personally one day while I was working with flowers in my yard that our house was just lovely, but she didn't like the fact that our neighbor had a sail boat parked in his driveway.  She said in a snarky voice, "Is that thing always parked there?  I don't like that at all."  I looked at her said, "Yup, it's been parked there since I bought the house 3 years ago.  I don't think it has ever seen water."  Why is this petticoat house shopping for her newly married daughter anyway?  I wanted to punch her in her face so she could go back and report to Buffy and Biff that our neighborhood was not a good fit for them.

What makes me smile the widest smile now, after the fact, is that on at least 3 occasions, our cats (they probably took turns) puked the most pulchritudinous hairball piles that in no way could have gone unnoticed.  If only we had had a video camera installed to capture the horrified look on the faces of those blockheads (I mean potential buyers) as they tripped the light fantastic over our cat's "welcome to our home" offering.  Ah, that does make me feel better.

 

--Fortuitous Observer 

The Leaves Have Begun Their Journey to the Ground...and I Can't Find the Charger for the Leaf Blower

Today is a quiet mid-August Sunday morning, and of course Poseidon is still asleep, so I'm enjoying my solitude and catching up on Facebook, emails, and all things electronic.  I noticed several brown leaves falling from one of the large oaks in our front yard.  It has begun.  Summer is subtly fading into autumn and I'm usually excited by this change, even though I a sun bunny.  I will miss the coconut smell of sun screen and lotion, and the smell of chlorine from the neighborhood swim club and the bright sun that makes sure my body is well equipped with its much needed Vitamin D!

I won't miss the swim moms dropping their spawn off at the swim club, that is for sure.  Poseidon and I have come close to death on more than one occasion this summer by the inability of these swim moms to drive like they've had a license for more than 20 minutes.  Seriously, there should be a sign near the swim club entrance that reads, "Got a uterus?  Don't Even Try to Parallel Park."  The other evening, Poseidon and I were driving on our street, past the swim club, when a woman in an SUV decides it's safe to do a U-turn right in front of us!  We had to slam on the breaks, and I honked the horn and I guess she was so embarrassed she took off like a bat out of hell down the street.  We had managed to survive yet another moronic assault by the swim moms!

Anyway, back to the tranquil part of this morning.  Though the falling leaves are a sign that summer will soon come to the end of its annual reign, I'm ok with it this year.  It's been a summer filled with decision making and preparing our house to go on the market, having strangers parade through our home, critiquing it, scrutinizing it, etc.  Leaving one job, beginning a new one.  Having been married for a year now (1 year on August 28th) without incident, though had we not had someone come in and install the new toilet we tried to do ourselves, the word divorce may have gotten batted back and forth.  So long summer of 2011.  I'll miss you when mid-November is here, but you will be back again.  You've never let me down, and unless the Aztec calendar is right and we are all going to crash and burn in 2012, I suppose, if I'm lucky enough, I'll see you again and again.

 

--Fortuitous Observer

Things I Miss - A Gen Xers Nostalgic Sob Story on a Wednesday Night

Atari - not because I really want to play an Atari game now, but it represented a slow technological time, when versions of new things didn't have a "dot" in them and it was years in between new releases, not days.  I remember when the Raiders of the Lost Ark game came out for Atari, and you had to call a number to get secret tips on how to play the game.

School House Rocks - on Saturday mornings.  Now it's so retro 80s...it wasn't retro when I grew up in the 80s.

Captain Kangaroo - Mr. Green Jeans and the rabbit, and the clock, and the moose...such a comfort now to think about them.  Remember when MTV first aired and the Captain began "updating" by showing snippets of videos?  Oh, and "Now you know my name is Simon, and the things I draw come true."  I've actually blogged about Simon in the past.

Playing outside - until well after dark and my parents didn't worry about me

Rocky Horror Picture Show - in high school, on Saturday nights at the midnight movie, and my parents didn't worry about me.

Renting - I love my house and my little piece of land, but I miss calling someone else when things were broken...now I have to figure out how to fix things all by myself, or more often than not, pay someone else to fix them because I'm not capable of doing it all alone.

Thinking I'm invincible - Now that I'm 42, and I'm feeling old because I had to buy reading glasses, my muscles and joints ache, I had to have my gallbladder removed, and the worst thing...I get sick on carnival rides.  Seriously, I used to make fun of my mom because she would get nauseous on carnival rides...now, I want to puke when I even see a "Tilt-O-Whirl."

 

--Fortuitous Observer