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I have survived and returned to buffalo.
dude went ahead and removed the glass from the window. we can’t get the sash out, the trim is so thoroughly overpainted that there’s no hint of what part’s removable to take the sash out. So we’re just going to have one of us stand outside on a ladder, and the other inside, and re-putty it in vertically. It’s got to be possible, so we’re going to do it.
Shortly we’ll get that whole window replaced, I think, but at least it will hold some more air.
I had wanted to talk this over with him but he wasn’t super receptive– so now he made a deal with his mother, and owns the house we live in. Which should be a big deal, and probably will be. But it does mean that instead of just saying ok well the house is old let’s just work around the outdated stuff, it’s now our problem to actually fix it– but we *can* actually fix it. And we’d been saving money to buy the house, but his mom worked out some deal where she’s redistributing all her stuff or whatever, she’s got this notion that she shouldn’t count on living any longer than her own mother did so she has this kind of countdown to that date, which is upcoming (a few more years yet), and it’s not that she thinks she’ll die then, it’s that she figures she shouldn’t assume she’ll survive longer, and so she should consider anything beyond that bonus time, and will have had to take care of all her business by then, I guess. I dunno– her sister is already like 15 years older than their mother lived to be, and is going just fine, a little deaf and slower than she was but not really any less sharp. Still, it means that there was something she was giving Dude’s sister, and something she was giving Dude, and she had consulted with lawyers and financial planners and all that. She’s not wealthy, not any more than my parents are, but she’s pretty typical late Boomer– struggled, had a career, lived frugally, put money by, now has a pension and some assets, you know, the way shit used to work when you were middle-class. Oh, also was horribly and suddenly widowed and got the life insurance payout, mustn’t forget that. (She has a little social group that does dinner together once a week, called the Widdas, because they are all in fact widows and that’s the local accent– they were close friends before, but now they also have this in common.) She can’t do whatever she wants, but she can give her son a house and buy herself a new car every seven years or so. (It’s literally something on that scale. She’s still working her way through a Saturn Aura.)
I had wanted to try to get my name onto the deed too, somehow– I had just felt like that would be a really good idea. But he wasn’t interested in discussing it, so that’s not happening. I’m certain it’s more that he felt that it’d just be extra trouble, rather than that he’s opposed to it, but facts of the matter being what they are, I don’t own this house, so I’m a little bummed.
What has to happen is that I have to clean it out, though. Most of the “stuff” is mine, or his but he doesn’t remember it’s his, and that’s kind of the kicker. He doesn’t remember that it’s his stuff, so he never moves it, and I can’t remember whether it was mine or what it was for, and it just adds to the disaster–
anyway. we need to modernize the electrical work, install a sump pump, insulate the second storey, refinish the basement, replace two or three of the windows, and I think entirely remodel the kitchen. Which is fine, we can use the money we were saving up to buy the house. And then it’ll be worth a reasonably good amount of money– it’s tiny but it’s in a good school district. However, we can’t do any of that until/unless I clear out all of my shit from the house. So I guess I have a project for the winter, and maybe I should try to book in each of my sisters in turn, since all of them have offered to help. I could even get one of those POD things, except I literally have nowhere to put it– my driveway is too narrow. So maybe I could just use the garage. Which Dude cleaned out, and then everything he was going to throw away, he set down in the middle of the floor in a pile for some reason I never could understand but I let it be because I trusted he had some kind of plan, and then time passed, and we haven’t been able to use the space ever since. (It’s been seven or so years.) So you see why I don’t consider him an ally in this work, like, at all.
So step one is, I guess, to clear out the garage. I guess I have a plan. Oh, I bet I could steal a couple of wooden pallets from the farm– they have them lying around– and set them up so I could pile things I still wanted to have afterward on them, instead of on the garage floor. That’s an idea.
(Your picture was not posted)
I have survived and returned to buffalo.
dude went ahead and removed the glass from the window. we can’t get the sash out, the trim is so thoroughly overpainted that there’s no hint of what part’s removable to take the sash out. So we’re just going to have one of us stand outside on a ladder, and the other inside, and re-putty it in vertically. It’s got to be possible, so we’re going to do it.
Shortly we’ll get that whole window replaced, I think, but at least it will hold some more air.
I had wanted to talk this over with him but he wasn’t super receptive– so now he made a deal with his mother, and owns the house we live in. Which should be a big deal, and probably will be. But it does mean that instead of just saying ok well the house is old let’s just work around the outdated stuff, it’s now our problem to actually fix it– but we *can* actually fix it. And we’d been saving money to buy the house, but his mom worked out some deal where she’s redistributing all her stuff or whatever, she’s got this notion that she shouldn’t count on living any longer than her own mother did so she has this kind of countdown to that date, which is upcoming (a few more years yet), and it’s not that she thinks she’ll die then, it’s that she figures she shouldn’t assume she’ll survive longer, and so she should consider anything beyond that bonus time, and will have had to take care of all her business by then, I guess. I dunno– her sister is already like 15 years older than their mother lived to be, and is going just fine, a little deaf and slower than she was but not really any less sharp. Still, it means that there was something she was giving Dude’s sister, and something she was giving Dude, and she had consulted with lawyers and financial planners and all that. She’s not wealthy, not any more than my parents are, but she’s pretty typical late Boomer– struggled, had a career, lived frugally, put money by, now has a pension and some assets, you know, the way shit used to work when you were middle-class. Oh, also was horribly and suddenly widowed and got the life insurance payout, mustn’t forget that. (She has a little social group that does dinner together once a week, called the Widdas, because they are all in fact widows and that’s the local accent– they were close friends before, but now they also have this in common.) She can’t do whatever she wants, but she can give her son a house and buy herself a new car every seven years or so. (It’s literally something on that scale. She’s still working her way through a Saturn Aura.)
I had wanted to try to get my name onto the deed too, somehow– I had just felt like that would be a really good idea. But he wasn’t interested in discussing it, so that’s not happening. I’m certain it’s more that he felt that it’d just be extra trouble, rather than that he’s opposed to it, but facts of the matter being what they are, I don’t own this house, so I’m a little bummed.
What has to happen is that I have to clean it out, though. Most of the “stuff” is mine, or his but he doesn’t remember it’s his, and that’s kind of the kicker. He doesn’t remember that it’s his stuff, so he never moves it, and I can’t remember whether it was mine or what it was for, and it just adds to the disaster–
anyway. we need to modernize the electrical work, install a sump pump, insulate the second storey, refinish the basement, replace two or three of the windows, and I think entirely remodel the kitchen. Which is fine, we can use the money we were saving up to buy the house. And then it’ll be worth a reasonably good amount of money– it’s tiny but it’s in a good school district. However, we can’t do any of that until/unless I clear out all of my shit from the house. So I guess I have a project for the winter, and maybe I should try to book in each of my sisters in turn, since all of them have offered to help. I could even get one of those POD things, except I literally have nowhere to put it– my driveway is too narrow. So maybe I could just use the garage. Which Dude cleaned out, and then everything he was going to throw away, he set down in the middle of the floor in a pile for some reason I never could understand but I let it be because I trusted he had some kind of plan, and then time passed, and we haven’t been able to use the space ever since. (It’s been seven or so years.) So you see why I don’t consider him an ally in this work, like, at all.
So step one is, I guess, to clear out the garage. I guess I have a plan. Oh, I bet I could steal a couple of wooden pallets from the farm– they have them lying around– and set them up so I could pile things I still wanted to have afterward on them, instead of on the garage floor. That’s an idea.
(Your picture was not posted)
