My house is in shambles. Not just the messy, stuff everywhere kind of shambles. The literal, falling-down-around-your-ears kind. Okay, that may be a bit of an exaggeration. It's structurally sound (as far as we know) but it's fairly decrepit, and growing more so by the day.
First of all, it's a fairly old house- built in 1969. (Sorry to those readers who were built in '69 or earlier. I'm not calling you old. 40 isn't old for people, just houses.) And it's not a terrible house. It's small, and it's fairly boring architecturally speaking, but it's okay. It was by far the best of the bunch in our meager price range when we were looking to buy our first house four years ago. And we were proud to get it. We were even more proud after we converted the carport into a snazzy addition, slapped on a new roof, and painted everything that would stand still. Then the bottom dropped out of the housing market and we watched all that lovely equity fly right out the window.
But we're (mostly) okay with that. Except when the tax assessment comes. Then we have to decide if we should cry, tear out our hair, or just get really, really drunk. But otherwise we don't worry too much about it. After all, what are you gonna do?? The big things we can deal with- it's the little things that are getting to me.
I currently have two big holes in my kitchen cabinets. They used to be drawers, but they completely fell apart, leaving gaping holes behind. My in-laws were going to replace them and install new doors on all the cabinets as a Christmas gift. But then the oven died, and since eating trumps kitchen appearance, they replaced the oven for us instead. Maybe next year.......
I also have a hole in the bathroom ceiling. Well, it's not really a hole, more just a completely open view to the non-working bathroom fan (and its 40 years of accumulated dust and grime). It went out on us a few weeks ago. Matt tried to fix it, but it's a bigger job than he can manage, so we have to leave that to an electrician. In the meantime, the clip holding the vent cover broke, so now the cover hangs down forlornly, giving us a bird's eye view to the inner workings of the bathroom ventilation system. It's lovely.
All the other appliances are working at the moment (knock wood.) But working doesn't necessarily mean they're functioning properly. Take my washer for example. There's something wrong with lid. It doesn't catch, so after it's done filling with water, it just sits there until you hit the top of it- then it goes into the wash cycle. Mason loves it. He came running in today when I was putting on laundry asking, "Is it time to hit the washer? I want to hit it!!" My sister says it reminds her of that show "The Middle." And while that show is funny, it's not really what we aspire to be.
And yet there's not much we can do about it. We don't have the money for major improvements, and the kids find a new way to destroy something every day. Just this morning, Will decided to make his time-out in his room productive by peeling a huge chunk of paint off the door. And my dog thoughtfully contributed to the science experiment that is the playroom carpet by puking on it not ten minutes ago.
So it's a constant shambles, and getting worse by the day. It makes me nuts, but I'm trying to focus on the bright side. At least we have a house. It keeps us warm in the winter, cool in the summer, and dry in the rain. It shelters my children, and gives them a huge backyard full of mud puddles to play in. And during those five minutes a month that it's actually clean, it's fairly cute (peeled paint and bio hazard playroom carpet notwithstanding). I guess we've achieved the American dream....
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