Well, unhappy for now, but no one ever promised any endeavor would be easy.
I had a very bad day today. The kind of day that cost a helluva lot of money and took a chunk out of my faith in mankind. It was an extremely costly lesson. But a valuable one.
I recently moved into home that I’m discovering has both very big and many annoying little problems And said house decided today to vomit up all it’s costly issues. Issues due to neglect, might I add. That the previous owner left the house in this condition is his problem. If he can live with himself knowing full well he left behind knowing what was wrong and all he did and didn’t do
He did it all without telling me.
Now, we’re not going to get the legalities within failure of disclosure. You’ll understand why at the end.
The reality is that the check has been cashed and now this home is my responsibility.
I was a first time buyer, dazzled by this home’s stunning accoutrements. But it was the gift wrap I was looking at; too ignorant to unwrap it. I was ignorant about many things I should have checked things out with a knowkedgeable person
(yes, it was inspected) instead of standing there, imagining where some future Mr. Kendrick and I will have our Christmas card photo taken. Well, color me educated, kids.
As I sat on my back porch with AmEx in hand paying for the third major systemic breakdown of the day, I started thinking. Besides, my AmEx card needed the time to cool down.
When you buy a used car, you’re often buying someone else’s problem. Marrying or electing to date divorced people can be a lot like that. But there’s a certain amount of “assumption” that takes place when you agree to buy a used car, get married a person previously married or a home that’s been lived in before. You assume a used car’s occasional engine knock, a divorced persons bad habits that got them divorced in the first place and you assume the responsibilities of a house left in a whatever condition the previous owner can live with in his conscious. I could never live with myself had I left a house in this shape. And I’m a horrendous slob. And as I renovate, I’ll find more problems I’m sure.
I’ve lived here almost a week now and I know very well what this previous owner did and didn’t to this house. And I can almost tell you when it was done or how long it’d been since something was done. You base it on the number and thickness of spider webs found wherever and the tasty flies entrapped in them, a large eyed meal set for this coming Saturday night. if you can write your Rh factor on the accumulated dirt on a window blind, or notice that bathtub grime has a texture and eye color, if grass is so dead it feels like walking on shards of glass like some bullshit Circus of The Stars show stunt back when Brooke Shields was losing relevance. It’s kind of like carbon dating fossils. But beyond that, the condition of a house is a direct linear view into a former owner’s self esteem, values, self-worth, human decency…… his soul and how currupt or pure it might be.
Enough of that. This house is mine now and I’ll make it truly mine. We’ve agreed to a quid pro quo: it’ll keep me safe and protect me from the elements and I’ll turn a sad, neglected house into a home.
So, in closing this Encyclopedic length tome, please know that I’ve educated myself in a day. It was a massive, costly life lesson with a 13.99% interest rate.
As for the previous owner, I feel sorry for him. I almost dread what lies in wait for him someday. It’s called karma and it’s real. I have the physical, and emotional scars to prove and it’s excruciating when exacted….when deserved.
Class dismissed.
