Small Things, Now fixed!

While I wait for Tiny Boy to get dressed, I bring you photographic evidence of the weekend’s labor .

 My bedroom closet, with knobs and switch plate.  And walls no longer green.  At some point, when it grates on me enough, these doors need to go.

I gave the kids the (previously painted yellow) bathroom switch plates to decorate.  Tiny Boy went for something, uhh, abstract.

LG is taking college-level art classes.  Teen-designed and painted.  See also, the pretty knob.  This is all the downstairs bathroom.

The TINY upstairs bathroom.  New paint (it used to be the exact same shade of yellow as the tile, even on the ceiling).  A plant.  The shower curtain, which I bought when we moved in, is birds.  It's whimsical.  Easier/cheaper to embrace the yellow tile than redo the bathroom.  In one convergence of my taste meets previous owners' taste, the light is the same one we had in our old house.

The Small Things

My house is being painted.  The bathroom is a lovely lavender.  I'm okay with the big things in there (the sink, the floors, the toilet).  But I hate the light fixture and the faucet.  Okay, those are easy (and relatively cheap) fixes.  But what about the fact that the switch plates are ugly, and the handle for the toilet is gold (also, I can't stand it).  Do I hate it enough to spend money on it?

This is what I'm wondering.  But it also takes me down a rabbit hole of other small things about this house that I never would have chosen.  (i.e. door knobs.  I didn't know I had feelings about door knobs, but my old house had beautiful glass door knobs, so apparently I do)  Do I hate them enough to spend money to fix it?  I don't know.  I know you can't tell me.

Do YOU fix these small things, or live with them?



Update:  So, a trip to Home Depot and a screwdriver later, I have replaced all the wood and/or beige plastic switch plates with the exception of one they did not have in stock.  I have also purchased ceiling lights to replace the 'boob lights' and miscellaneous 1980s uglies.  A bathroom faucet identical to the "teapot" one we had in our old house.  And a new shower head.  My handyman guy is going to come the first week in January and deal with the aforementioned.  Yahoo.

Inspections

I'm still waiting to hear what my prospective buyers want to do post-inspection.  I'm in a state.  I really want to sell this house, and I haven't had any other offers.

When you expect issues as big as The House is Falling Down, small things like slightly cracked window pane in the basement don't really register.  

My realtor forwarded me their realtor's list of all the small things that add up....and it might amount to a sum total of $2000.  Which on a 1941 house with major issues they are overlooking (people, don't worry about the $20 glass in the basement....worry about the fact that there are still original windows that should be replaced and if you do it right, to match other windows in the house, that's about $1000/window and if you do it cheaply, still several hundred).

The biggest thing is a high concentration of mold in the 'wine cellar' (ha!) which is remedied, supposedly, by bleach and paint and a dehumidifier.  Even that sounds like no big deal, and I'm happy to chip in to the cost.

So this post is mostly me being perplexed that someone who wants to buy a 1941 house would be put off by these sorts of things.  

Home Repairs, Oh My!

One of my realtor's favorite ways of relaying the Undone at various houses is "deferred maintenance."

My own such deferrals are being dealt with handily.  To wit:  everything I didn't paint in the thirteen years I've lived here (stairwells!  the wall of shame!) is being painted.  New appliances in today (I hope they fit.  Seriously.)  Of course in the process of doing things (i.e. installing new range hood) new work is created (more painting, because the new one is smaller than the old one).

If I live through today, I think it will be okay.  Painter should be finished Sunday.  I get home from long weekend on Monday.  Tuesday morning when Tiny Boy is in camp I put our house back together and invite a manly teenager (a friend's son) to come move heavy stuff (rocking chair to the basement!).

If this post seems a little manic, yeah, that's how I feel at the moment.

I looked at two more houses.

Another one in my neighborhood.  That's really the only upside.  It is not a workable situation.  At all.

The other one is in a newer neighborhood in which literally every house is beige.  It is so boring.  So boring.  But a decent 1997 house.  LG hated it.  I'm not sure why.  It's not THE house (it's big, but doesn't actually have a 4th bedroom, so I'd still be study-less, which is apparently important to me right now) but it's okay.  Next up:  revisiting The Hot Tub House, which is still on the market for inexplicable reasons.

The Sky Is Falling (II)

So...I've had four different opinions on my basement/foundation situation that range--I kid you not--from doing absolutely nothing to yeah, I really should call a structural engineer because the garage is probably sinking.  My gut says that's probably right.

I've had a week (maybe more?  I think there was a slow burn before the flames of last Friday) of high anxiety.  I've reminded myself (1) I tend to get anxious this time of year, (2) there might have been a hormonal component as that was the first time I've had my period since January (hello, menopause!), and (3) I've been pretty emotional since the inauguration.  But even now with the house situation stable-ish, I'm thrumming at a pretty high level.

I've considered calling my old therapist, or scheduling a solo appt with LG's, but really I'm not sure therapy would do me any good.  Working out helps (I've been trying to run a bit between longer stretches of walking--and to be clear, my walking speed is faster than most people's jogging speed) but mostly just temporary.  Wine, too, though I'm really trying not to drink as much.  I've needed to ratchet up my lunesta dose on a few occasions, which I don't want to do, as I'd intended on cutting it (my doctor prescribed 1-3 mg per night, usually I do 2).  I've been reading a lot for 'pleasure' (which I define as not reading with the likely intent of a book ending up on a syllabus...right now that's Here I Am, which has actually inspired me to contemplate teaching a Jewish American lit course, so, yeah, a bit blurry).

But I am seriously overwhelmed in a way that I really shouldn't be in the first chunk of the summer.  I'm making headway on work stuff (I've been reading some things that will make it into my new class in the fall, so vague prep, and I've been writing steadily [minimum 1000/day] on my book project) and I'm spending time with the kids, and I am at least trying to deal with the house.... but it's feeling like a lot.  I've also been thinking about new schedules for next year (Tiny Boy goes to kindergarten!) and I'm sure that's having an effect.

I don't like roller coasters, but I really do like the line from the season two finale of Kimmy Schmidt about finding a safe space to scream your head off.

I Should Just Pay the Extra $400, Right?

Here's the backstory:  we desperately need a new front door.  It took me AGES to pick out a door that I liked and a contractor to install it.  AGES.  Me, walking around looking at doors.  Reading brochures.  Blah blah.  You'd think I was picking out an egg donor or something.

Contractor goes to order the door (it's not a standard size) and it turns out the cost of the door does not include staining the damn thing.  That will be an extra $400ish at the door company. This is not his fault--the materials are misleading--and thankfully he called to ask me what I wanted to do.

The frugal part of me says I'll just stain the door myself and save roughly $400.

The part of me that feels more strapped for time than cash says that's dumb.  And then I have a friend with a cautionary tale about staining things improperly... so I should just suck it up and pay the extra money, right?

In the meantime, while I am mulling over these options, if you have experience with fiberglass doors, lay it on me... 

The Bathroom Saga

So far I have spoken to two plumbers, our usual handyman co, and one bathroom designer.  Of course they all have different options for what we can do.

LG is all ready to tear down our entire bathroom (and part of my bedroom, you know, to make the bathroom GINORMOUS), but she's not the one paying.  I have to admit, it's fun contemplating a fantasy bathroom.  But I also remember fondly the description of our house before we bought it, advertising its ORIGINAL TILE as a selling point.  I suspect for anyone who buys a 1941 house, that's going to be true.

My options seem to be so far:

1. Redoing the shower faucet, with or without updating anything else.
2. Redoing the shower faucet, plus talking to a tile repair guy about repairing tile and reglazing tub.
3. Redoing the shower faucet, plus putting in cultured marble shower liner in lieu of tile.
4. Demolishing the whole damn thing and starting over.

Today option 2 is my favorite, followed by 3.  Hmmm.