My dog is neurotic. Yeah, yeah, a friend recently told me all dogs are neurotic, so Daisy is not unique.
I think my house is spurring Daisy into a full blown nervous breakdown.
I met Daisy about three years ago when I was living in Michigan, depressed and mid-life crisis-ing because I had graduated from a doctoral program, broken up with a guy who I thought I would marry but fortunately figured out he was psycho, and moved to a small town in the Midwest.
I needed a friend, and I found Daisy.
When I first met her, Daisy was about 4 months old. She was named by the folks at the animal shelter "Ashleigh" which I found repulsive and did not fit her rambunctious personality. When she came to the house and ran around the back yard, she ate a daisy -- the name stuck.
Daisy and I lived peacefully in Michigan; we survived the insane 8 year old who lived next door, a burglar who didn't steal anything but seemingly enjoyed walking around my house in the middle of the night, and the beginning and ending of more than a few relationships (how pathetic).
When I first moved to Seattle, I rented an apartment until I sold my house in Michigan. My very energetic half border collie half lab (we think) pooch went from a 2000 square foot house to a 700 square foot apartment. With no yard.
Dutifully, I took Daisy for three walks a day to the park at the end of the street. She had a lot of friends there -- Willow, Max, Leroy, Buddy, Freddie, Rosemary, Arrow, you know, the gang... -- and was illegally off leash almost daily (shhhh).
Now that I'm in a house and she has a yard, she's totally freaking out. When I let her out, she starts running -- and I do mean RUNNING -- in circles around the back yard. She grunts, she scowls, she growls, she goes totally insane. She does this for about 15 minutes, stops for a second, and then goes off on another tear.
I'm starting to get worried. Maybe she's getting used to the new place? Maybe she hates it? Maybe she misses her doggie pals? Maybe she'll outgrow it? Any thoughts?
Friday, August 31, 2007
Thursday, August 30, 2007
The Plum Posse
The other day, as I was typing typing away in my office, I hear a bunch of male voices, all commenting on the horrible state of my hedge (by request, a photo of said hedge is on its way...).
At first, I thought I was hearing things -- hedge voices? a freakin' hedge haunting? -- and then I realized the voices were in my front yard.
I looked out the window and saw 8 boys, all under the age of 10, climbing my plum tree, fruit flying everywhere.
Thinking this was -- a. cool, b. what neighbor boys did in the 1960s, c. somewhat irritating, d. rat bait -- I went outside to chat with them.
They caught on before I could get to the door. All but two of the plum posse dashed around the hedge and down the street. The two left -- standing sheepishly by my front door were Nathaniel and some-other-kid-whose-name-I-don't-remember (we'll call him Blond Kid). Nathaniel explained that the other boys were doing a "sasquatch" on my tree.
A sasquatch.
on
the
tree
I almost bust out laughing. That was the greatest kid turn of phrase I had heard in a long time, one that might have come from my brother -- the freakin' KING of random catch phrases. I loved it!
Bob told me the other boys were stealing plums from my tree. (The two of them were each holding about 5 plums, each).
I told them they weren't in trouble and that I would be happy to share my plums with them... they just needed to ask permission.
They said thanks and left.
The next day....
I came home after a grueling day at work.
10 minutes later, 8 boys were at my door:
"Could we have some plums?"
I was so amazed they actually came to my door to ask my permission that a little tear came to my eye.
Truly.
"Of course you can. But, please don't climb the tree -- the branches are really thin and you might fall."
"Ok."
They didn't climb. Another shocker. They jumped. They tried different styles of jumping. Nothing was coming down. They started to get irritated. They wanted the plums.
I went to the garage and got a ladder. I stood under the plum tree with my neighbors and helped them pick plums from the tree.
They came back this evening.
The plum posse rocks.
The hedge does not. It's still there in it's half shorn glory. The damn thing will kill me...
Hope you are enjoying this lovely Thursday.
-- The Single Gal
At first, I thought I was hearing things -- hedge voices? a freakin' hedge haunting? -- and then I realized the voices were in my front yard.
I looked out the window and saw 8 boys, all under the age of 10, climbing my plum tree, fruit flying everywhere.
Thinking this was -- a. cool, b. what neighbor boys did in the 1960s, c. somewhat irritating, d. rat bait -- I went outside to chat with them.
They caught on before I could get to the door. All but two of the plum posse dashed around the hedge and down the street. The two left -- standing sheepishly by my front door were Nathaniel and some-other-kid-whose-name-I-don't-remember (we'll call him Blond Kid). Nathaniel explained that the other boys were doing a "sasquatch" on my tree.
A sasquatch.
on
the
tree
I almost bust out laughing. That was the greatest kid turn of phrase I had heard in a long time, one that might have come from my brother -- the freakin' KING of random catch phrases. I loved it!
Bob told me the other boys were stealing plums from my tree. (The two of them were each holding about 5 plums, each).
I told them they weren't in trouble and that I would be happy to share my plums with them... they just needed to ask permission.
They said thanks and left.
The next day....
I came home after a grueling day at work.
10 minutes later, 8 boys were at my door:
"Could we have some plums?"
I was so amazed they actually came to my door to ask my permission that a little tear came to my eye.
Truly.
"Of course you can. But, please don't climb the tree -- the branches are really thin and you might fall."
"Ok."
They didn't climb. Another shocker. They jumped. They tried different styles of jumping. Nothing was coming down. They started to get irritated. They wanted the plums.
I went to the garage and got a ladder. I stood under the plum tree with my neighbors and helped them pick plums from the tree.
They came back this evening.
The plum posse rocks.
The hedge does not. It's still there in it's half shorn glory. The damn thing will kill me...
Hope you are enjoying this lovely Thursday.
-- The Single Gal
Monday, August 27, 2007
Half done!
In a bout of my-arm-is-miraculously-healed I pruned half of the hedge today. It looks fairly decent, and I am both proud of myself and excited that it doesn't look like complete crap, at least, as is the view from my house. And that is all that counts, thank you very much.
And, now my arm kills, my face is numb, and I'm exhausted.
Go figure.
As a reward to myself, I spent some of the afternoon watching really horrible court TV shows. Somehow those programs make me feel better about myself. I know, I know, it's horrible and wrong and morally reprehensible, but... hey.
By the way, I don't like the new "People's Court" judge. She's just not Wapneresque... it just seems wrong to take over the "People's Court" legacy and be a total classless bitch. She was actually screaming at the plaintiffs on the program I saw today. Is that necessary? Didn't you work your ass off to get to a place in your career where you are a respected professional? Screaming at people does not give you any respect. In fact, in my book, it takes it away.
So there's my two cents...
In other home-related news...
My big house concern at the moment (aside from the hedge which continues to loom its ivy prescence in my front yard) is preparing my house for the long rainy season. Before the rain comes, I'll need to clean the gutters, rake the MOUNDS of leaves that I'm anticipating in my backyard, as well as do some caulking and other winterizing.
Unlike the midwest where the leaves can hide underneath piles of snow, it rarely snows in Seattle, and the leaves could smother the lawn (which stays green throughout the year). Gotta get 'em up!
Another of my pre-winter worries is that our little friends the rats are not actually gone and are nesting in the walls, insulation, or some other freakin' place they have found near or in my house. It is my life's goal to get rid of those suckers.... I'm dilligently chopping down the wysteria vine in the front of the house and trimming tree branches so the roof rats do not have access to the attic. The rat man told me that rats can jump up to three feet, so keeping branches three feet away from the roof line is important. Yeah, gross, isn't it?
As my fruit trees begin to drop their fruit (I have a plum tree in the front yard and two apple trees in the back), it is important to dilligently pick up the fallen fruit to keep creatures away from the yard and the house.
This morning, prior to my hedge trimming frenzy, I spent about 30 minutes picking up plums from the front yard. Many of them had been partially eaten, and I was really shocked about the crop of plums on the ground. I suspect there are a couple of creatures that hang out in the tree and shake it like crazy to feed the chickens who won't climb up.
Begone, I say!
The last thing I need are more creatures in my life, you know what I mean?
As I make my blog more well known to family and friends, I wanted to give a shout out to two fabulous people (of many) who helped me through my first home ownership experience while I was living in the midwest -- Tony DeRyder and Jim McKinney. Both taught me a lot about home maintenance and were great people to have around.
Also, I wanted to give a shout out to my wonderful realtor in Seattle -- http://www.rachelstamm.com/ and to Lynetta McCamman who helped me sell my house in the midwest. Viva gals!
Hope this post finds you all well.
And, now my arm kills, my face is numb, and I'm exhausted.
Go figure.
As a reward to myself, I spent some of the afternoon watching really horrible court TV shows. Somehow those programs make me feel better about myself. I know, I know, it's horrible and wrong and morally reprehensible, but... hey.
By the way, I don't like the new "People's Court" judge. She's just not Wapneresque... it just seems wrong to take over the "People's Court" legacy and be a total classless bitch. She was actually screaming at the plaintiffs on the program I saw today. Is that necessary? Didn't you work your ass off to get to a place in your career where you are a respected professional? Screaming at people does not give you any respect. In fact, in my book, it takes it away.
So there's my two cents...
In other home-related news...
My big house concern at the moment (aside from the hedge which continues to loom its ivy prescence in my front yard) is preparing my house for the long rainy season. Before the rain comes, I'll need to clean the gutters, rake the MOUNDS of leaves that I'm anticipating in my backyard, as well as do some caulking and other winterizing.
Unlike the midwest where the leaves can hide underneath piles of snow, it rarely snows in Seattle, and the leaves could smother the lawn (which stays green throughout the year). Gotta get 'em up!
Another of my pre-winter worries is that our little friends the rats are not actually gone and are nesting in the walls, insulation, or some other freakin' place they have found near or in my house. It is my life's goal to get rid of those suckers.... I'm dilligently chopping down the wysteria vine in the front of the house and trimming tree branches so the roof rats do not have access to the attic. The rat man told me that rats can jump up to three feet, so keeping branches three feet away from the roof line is important. Yeah, gross, isn't it?
As my fruit trees begin to drop their fruit (I have a plum tree in the front yard and two apple trees in the back), it is important to dilligently pick up the fallen fruit to keep creatures away from the yard and the house.
This morning, prior to my hedge trimming frenzy, I spent about 30 minutes picking up plums from the front yard. Many of them had been partially eaten, and I was really shocked about the crop of plums on the ground. I suspect there are a couple of creatures that hang out in the tree and shake it like crazy to feed the chickens who won't climb up.
Begone, I say!
The last thing I need are more creatures in my life, you know what I mean?
As I make my blog more well known to family and friends, I wanted to give a shout out to two fabulous people (of many) who helped me through my first home ownership experience while I was living in the midwest -- Tony DeRyder and Jim McKinney. Both taught me a lot about home maintenance and were great people to have around.
Also, I wanted to give a shout out to my wonderful realtor in Seattle -- http://www.rachelstamm.com/ and to Lynetta McCamman who helped me sell my house in the midwest. Viva gals!
Hope this post finds you all well.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Leaves a plenty...
I want to be tidy, I really do.
Perfection, however, is unattainable...
At the moment there are leaves and piles of yard waste in my yard.
I know, I know, I shouldn't be freaking out about it. Yard waste, yard schmaste. Who gives a rip?
Well, it looks like crap, and I'm a perfectionist... I cringe every time I open the blinds.
And, as a homeowner, I have an obligation to my neighborhood to keep my yard looking decent. Right? In fact, I think it's on my lease somewhere...
Yeah, I could go out and clean it up, but my yard waste bin is full... yes, that's my excuse... that and, oh, my arm feels like it needs to be chopped off.
But... anyway...
I'm just glad that there isn't a homeowner's association on my block -- I wouldn't want to get fined.... and based on the crap in my yard at the moment, I would get fined.
The honeymoon phase of the new house has now faded -- I've been in the house about a month now -- and the reality of single woman homeownership is comin' at me in full force. It's not so much the issue of being a woman as being single -- being a one person show and having to do all things -- making sure everything gets done both inside and outside of the house. It's a lot to negotiate.
When I moved back to Seattle from the midwest last year, I vowed I would not buy another house because it was too much work for one person. Well, lookie here.... less than a year later, I'm in another house.... it's smaller than my last one, though... and much less work.
I don't regret the decision -- it was the best investment for my money, over a townhouse, over a condo, and I needed space... and to see trees... and not to live underneath anyone. It was the right choice for me.
And now, the honeymoon is over... the list of home improvement projects is mounting -- I need to replace two ceiling light fixtures because the rat men broke them... (well, one spontaneously fell on my head as I was going dishes)... yard work a plenty, leaves blowing everywhere, recaulk the windows before the rain begins, get a check-up on the fireplace, etc. etc. As is true for the rest of life, making a list of "to dos" sometimes overwhelms me into paralysis instead of motivates me to get 'er done.
One thing at a time... right now I need to deal with the eyesore that is my yard. Tomorrow is Monday and I have the day off... I'll tackle some of the work then.
I promise...
Perfection, however, is unattainable...
At the moment there are leaves and piles of yard waste in my yard.
I know, I know, I shouldn't be freaking out about it. Yard waste, yard schmaste. Who gives a rip?
Well, it looks like crap, and I'm a perfectionist... I cringe every time I open the blinds.
And, as a homeowner, I have an obligation to my neighborhood to keep my yard looking decent. Right? In fact, I think it's on my lease somewhere...
Yeah, I could go out and clean it up, but my yard waste bin is full... yes, that's my excuse... that and, oh, my arm feels like it needs to be chopped off.
But... anyway...
I'm just glad that there isn't a homeowner's association on my block -- I wouldn't want to get fined.... and based on the crap in my yard at the moment, I would get fined.
The honeymoon phase of the new house has now faded -- I've been in the house about a month now -- and the reality of single woman homeownership is comin' at me in full force. It's not so much the issue of being a woman as being single -- being a one person show and having to do all things -- making sure everything gets done both inside and outside of the house. It's a lot to negotiate.
When I moved back to Seattle from the midwest last year, I vowed I would not buy another house because it was too much work for one person. Well, lookie here.... less than a year later, I'm in another house.... it's smaller than my last one, though... and much less work.
I don't regret the decision -- it was the best investment for my money, over a townhouse, over a condo, and I needed space... and to see trees... and not to live underneath anyone. It was the right choice for me.
And now, the honeymoon is over... the list of home improvement projects is mounting -- I need to replace two ceiling light fixtures because the rat men broke them... (well, one spontaneously fell on my head as I was going dishes)... yard work a plenty, leaves blowing everywhere, recaulk the windows before the rain begins, get a check-up on the fireplace, etc. etc. As is true for the rest of life, making a list of "to dos" sometimes overwhelms me into paralysis instead of motivates me to get 'er done.
One thing at a time... right now I need to deal with the eyesore that is my yard. Tomorrow is Monday and I have the day off... I'll tackle some of the work then.
I promise...
Saturday, August 25, 2007
The hedge from hell... continued
Greetings, all....
Hope this finds you well. It's a rainy weekend here in Seattle. Nice excuse to lay around and read a book or do the crossword puzzle. I love the crossword puzzle.
I had to go down the street to use the internet. I'd been hopping onto my neighbor's wireless service (shhhh), but I think they caught on. The network has been down for 4 - 5 days.
I can't complain about it. Just have to figure out a new way... or... gasp... pay for service myself...
And so, the house... which I love... continues to be developed. I am LOVING it. I can't wait to light a fire in the fireplace...
The hedge is partially shorn.
I dig power tools, though. A newly discovered love! I feel like a muscular bad ass using those things. I am forever indebted to my new neighbor for the loan.
Despite my inner feminism screaming "I am NOT a damsel in distress."
The hedge is halfway finished -- I can't seem to do the top of it, which is the worst part of all. Too painful to lift my hands above my head. Maybe I'll try again next week.
I went to see the physical therapist yesterday who suggested, based on my injuries and my pain level, that I should not go back to work following the car accident.
Um.
Okay -- A. I didn't think that I was in that much pain (although it hurts like a mofo), and B. WHAT?! My doc never suggested that I stay away from work. She thought it would be better for me TO work. Medical care is so confusing.
Have you seen SICKO? Crazily disturbing and somewhat irritating... more on this later.
Having a screwed up neck/arm/back and being told I shouldn't work sucks, especially when you can't take advantage of it.
Here's where being a single gal BLOWS.
The bottom line is -- as a single gal, if I don't work, who is going to pay the mortgage?
I don't have a choice here. I have to work.
Most of the time, I'm content being single (although it would, truthfully, be great to meet a lovely young non-psycho gentleman to date), but this week it SUCKS ROCKS, duuddde.
Enjoy the rest of your weekend.
Hope this finds you well. It's a rainy weekend here in Seattle. Nice excuse to lay around and read a book or do the crossword puzzle. I love the crossword puzzle.
I had to go down the street to use the internet. I'd been hopping onto my neighbor's wireless service (shhhh), but I think they caught on. The network has been down for 4 - 5 days.
I can't complain about it. Just have to figure out a new way... or... gasp... pay for service myself...
And so, the house... which I love... continues to be developed. I am LOVING it. I can't wait to light a fire in the fireplace...
The hedge is partially shorn.
I dig power tools, though. A newly discovered love! I feel like a muscular bad ass using those things. I am forever indebted to my new neighbor for the loan.
Despite my inner feminism screaming "I am NOT a damsel in distress."
The hedge is halfway finished -- I can't seem to do the top of it, which is the worst part of all. Too painful to lift my hands above my head. Maybe I'll try again next week.
I went to see the physical therapist yesterday who suggested, based on my injuries and my pain level, that I should not go back to work following the car accident.
Um.
Okay -- A. I didn't think that I was in that much pain (although it hurts like a mofo), and B. WHAT?! My doc never suggested that I stay away from work. She thought it would be better for me TO work. Medical care is so confusing.
Have you seen SICKO? Crazily disturbing and somewhat irritating... more on this later.
Having a screwed up neck/arm/back and being told I shouldn't work sucks, especially when you can't take advantage of it.
Here's where being a single gal BLOWS.
The bottom line is -- as a single gal, if I don't work, who is going to pay the mortgage?
I don't have a choice here. I have to work.
Most of the time, I'm content being single (although it would, truthfully, be great to meet a lovely young non-psycho gentleman to date), but this week it SUCKS ROCKS, duuddde.
Enjoy the rest of your weekend.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
#$!!##%@ curtain rods (and the hedge from hell, part 3)
When I got home this afternoon, my dog got very excited and in her usual exuberant fashion, ran around in circles like a maniac. Today's circle running was a bit different -- she somehow tangled herself in the curtains framing the sliding glass doors.
Twisted in Ikea fabric, she got freaked out (wouldn't you?), and started running in the opposite direction of the window, which, of course, resulted in a large crash, complete with curtains falling and yanking out the curtain rod braces? holders? you know what I'm talking about... out of the wall.
I admit, I was annoyed. Pissed even. I yelled. She ran outside.
I felt bad and gave her a treat. Dogs are awesome.
Sigh.
After a few minutes I calmed down. I made myself some chai and started working on putting those gosh darn curtain rods back up.
During Daisy's curtain incident (as I shall call it), the screws had stripped their holes and some of the drywall tore and flaked off the wall.
Okay.
At first, I attempted to replace them as was. Didn't work. The rods kept falling off the wall. So after about three attempts (will I even learn), I finally figured out I needed a different tactic.
I dug around in the toolbox my father had gotten from a rural Iowa telephone company, and found some blue plastic tube things (ok, I know sound like a totally dingy woman here -- I do have a Ph.D., believe it or not!) and shoved them into the holes. Then I put the screws into the blue things and tried again to put the curtains up.
Miracle!
I was so proud of my craftiness, I can't tell you.
And onto more important things.. the ongoing hedge saga.
The hedge still sits, unclipped.
My arm has been really painful in the last few days, so I don't feel like I can do any more work on it right now. It looks horrible and I can barely stand it myself. I cringe every time I think my neighbor will walk by, seeing my unfinished hedge. I feel obligated to get that puppy done as soon as possible so I can return his hedge clipper. But, I have issues... my arm freakin' hurts.
AND -- besides the desire to amputate my arm with the hedge clipper (it would be less painful than it currently is, I swear!), there's something to be said for manually trimming your hedge, mowing your lawn, etc.
Ok, minor soap box coming -- we, as Americans in particular, are pulled away from the earth. Our yards are artifically green and dandelion free (what's wrong with dandelions anyway?), we listen to ipods when we're on a walk, we worry about who has the best gas guzzling car, we are living in a world that is not truly real.
A simulacrum, if you will.
I had a long talk about this today with a few friends of mine who live in Portland and were in Seattle for a few days. They rode their bicycles up to Seattle... that's right.. rode their BICYCLES. (It's about a 3 hour car ride).
These people are totally inspirational. They have not owned a car in three years. It's hard for me to conceive of that, but I admire the hell out of them.
They are totally amazing, intelligent, warm, and thoughtful people. They listen to their bodies, they are listening to the earth.
Sasha owns Vanilla Bicycles in Portland and does some really amazing work. Check them out: http://www.vanillabicycles.com/
I'm definitely still tossing around ideas on how to get closer to the earth -- moving to the suburbs helped, gardening helps, hiking helps, but what else? How about you?
Twisted in Ikea fabric, she got freaked out (wouldn't you?), and started running in the opposite direction of the window, which, of course, resulted in a large crash, complete with curtains falling and yanking out the curtain rod braces? holders? you know what I'm talking about... out of the wall.
I admit, I was annoyed. Pissed even. I yelled. She ran outside.
I felt bad and gave her a treat. Dogs are awesome.
Sigh.
After a few minutes I calmed down. I made myself some chai and started working on putting those gosh darn curtain rods back up.
During Daisy's curtain incident (as I shall call it), the screws had stripped their holes and some of the drywall tore and flaked off the wall.
Okay.
At first, I attempted to replace them as was. Didn't work. The rods kept falling off the wall. So after about three attempts (will I even learn), I finally figured out I needed a different tactic.
I dug around in the toolbox my father had gotten from a rural Iowa telephone company, and found some blue plastic tube things (ok, I know sound like a totally dingy woman here -- I do have a Ph.D., believe it or not!) and shoved them into the holes. Then I put the screws into the blue things and tried again to put the curtains up.
Miracle!
I was so proud of my craftiness, I can't tell you.
And onto more important things.. the ongoing hedge saga.
The hedge still sits, unclipped.
My arm has been really painful in the last few days, so I don't feel like I can do any more work on it right now. It looks horrible and I can barely stand it myself. I cringe every time I think my neighbor will walk by, seeing my unfinished hedge. I feel obligated to get that puppy done as soon as possible so I can return his hedge clipper. But, I have issues... my arm freakin' hurts.
AND -- besides the desire to amputate my arm with the hedge clipper (it would be less painful than it currently is, I swear!), there's something to be said for manually trimming your hedge, mowing your lawn, etc.
Ok, minor soap box coming -- we, as Americans in particular, are pulled away from the earth. Our yards are artifically green and dandelion free (what's wrong with dandelions anyway?), we listen to ipods when we're on a walk, we worry about who has the best gas guzzling car, we are living in a world that is not truly real.
A simulacrum, if you will.
I had a long talk about this today with a few friends of mine who live in Portland and were in Seattle for a few days. They rode their bicycles up to Seattle... that's right.. rode their BICYCLES. (It's about a 3 hour car ride).
These people are totally inspirational. They have not owned a car in three years. It's hard for me to conceive of that, but I admire the hell out of them.
They are totally amazing, intelligent, warm, and thoughtful people. They listen to their bodies, they are listening to the earth.
Sasha owns Vanilla Bicycles in Portland and does some really amazing work. Check them out: http://www.vanillabicycles.com/
I'm definitely still tossing around ideas on how to get closer to the earth -- moving to the suburbs helped, gardening helps, hiking helps, but what else? How about you?
Monday, August 20, 2007
The Hedge from Hell part 2
I had a burst of energy yesterday afternoon, and decided to attack the hedge, full on, with my newly borrowed electronic hedge clipper, extension cord, and step ladder. I was so ready to kill the thing.
I started working, and realized that I was incredibly stupid. Although it wasn't raining at the time, the leaves of the hedge were still wet. As I was chopping away, visions of electrocution started dancing through my head. So, I stopped.
Of course, the wet leaves were only one deterrant -- because of my arm / neck injury from the car accident, I'm on lots of new nerve medication. These pills make me feel like a stoned Super Woman. With the meds, my arm is hurting less, but the injury is still there. So, even doing this project (or attempting) was really freakin' stupid. On a lot of fronts.
I have to say, however, that I got about a quarter of one side of the hedge trimmed and it looks great! I am now totally excited about power tools.
It's amazing what you have to learn when there's crap to be done and you're the only person to do it. I'm really thankful for that -- it forces me to challenge myself.
I started working, and realized that I was incredibly stupid. Although it wasn't raining at the time, the leaves of the hedge were still wet. As I was chopping away, visions of electrocution started dancing through my head. So, I stopped.
Of course, the wet leaves were only one deterrant -- because of my arm / neck injury from the car accident, I'm on lots of new nerve medication. These pills make me feel like a stoned Super Woman. With the meds, my arm is hurting less, but the injury is still there. So, even doing this project (or attempting) was really freakin' stupid. On a lot of fronts.
I have to say, however, that I got about a quarter of one side of the hedge trimmed and it looks great! I am now totally excited about power tools.
It's amazing what you have to learn when there's crap to be done and you're the only person to do it. I'm really thankful for that -- it forces me to challenge myself.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
The Hedge from Hell
About a week ago a friend of mine was vistiing from Finland. She took one look at my front hedge, and gasped...
Not only is the damn thing completely overgrown, BUT apparently, ivy (the hedge substance) is bad luck to have near or by a house.
At least, that's what her mother told her.
Great.
After my three weeks of house guests departed, I decided it was hedge chopping time. I do not need any more bad luck and barring removing the damn thing, I just want it to look mildly presentable.
I am, afterall, the new gal in the 'hood.
So I was contemplating the hedge's fate as I was mowing my lawn (with a reel push mower, thank you) when one of my neighbors walked by. He commented on my "old school" mower nd told me where I could buy a power mower cheap.
I do not want a power mower.
I tried to explain it to him, but he just sighed.
Now that's old school.
About an hour later, as I began to attack the hedge with my manual clipper things, the same dude came driving by, got out of his car, and handed me an electric hedge trimmer.
"Here," he said, "I know you like your exercise, but that thing's a... well, I think you need this."
I have to say, I was grateful for the gesture. I'm sure an electric trimmer will save me a lot of time, and, because my arm still hurts like crazy after the accident, might make the task less painful.
Problem is -- I have no idea how to use it.
After the neighbor left, I examined it -- looking desperately for instructions, some sort of clue on how to chop down the ivy without killing myself. Nothing.
And how do you... oh, yeah. I found a plug. But, of course, I didn't have an extension cord.
Couldn't use the thing.
So, I went out and bought an extension cord on my way home. I was psyching myself up ... and then it started to rain.
It's raining again this morning, and the hedge sits, in its full bad ass ivy glory, unshorn.
For now... stay tuned...
Not only is the damn thing completely overgrown, BUT apparently, ivy (the hedge substance) is bad luck to have near or by a house.
At least, that's what her mother told her.
Great.
After my three weeks of house guests departed, I decided it was hedge chopping time. I do not need any more bad luck and barring removing the damn thing, I just want it to look mildly presentable.
I am, afterall, the new gal in the 'hood.
So I was contemplating the hedge's fate as I was mowing my lawn (with a reel push mower, thank you) when one of my neighbors walked by. He commented on my "old school" mower nd told me where I could buy a power mower cheap.
I do not want a power mower.
I tried to explain it to him, but he just sighed.
Now that's old school.
About an hour later, as I began to attack the hedge with my manual clipper things, the same dude came driving by, got out of his car, and handed me an electric hedge trimmer.
"Here," he said, "I know you like your exercise, but that thing's a... well, I think you need this."
I have to say, I was grateful for the gesture. I'm sure an electric trimmer will save me a lot of time, and, because my arm still hurts like crazy after the accident, might make the task less painful.
Problem is -- I have no idea how to use it.
After the neighbor left, I examined it -- looking desperately for instructions, some sort of clue on how to chop down the ivy without killing myself. Nothing.
And how do you... oh, yeah. I found a plug. But, of course, I didn't have an extension cord.
Couldn't use the thing.
So, I went out and bought an extension cord on my way home. I was psyching myself up ... and then it started to rain.
It's raining again this morning, and the hedge sits, in its full bad ass ivy glory, unshorn.
For now... stay tuned...
The move in...
After spending waaaay too much money on this house I love, I began moving preparations.
I closed on the house on July 12. And, after careful consideration, I decided to move myself (with a little help from friends and U-Haul) on July 22, which would give me plenty of time to paint the new pad and get my crap together.
Well, things turned out differently than I had planned.
On June 30, I was involved in a car accident (not my fault, thank you), but I injured my arm, back, shoulder, neck, blah blah. (Yeah, I'm still feeling shitty 6 weeks later... what a nightmare.)
By some miracle, the auto insurance company agreed to pay for professional movers (yippeee!) and my friends (bless them) helped me pack and get ready for the big day. July 16. Earlier than I had planned, but that was the date they had available and I jumped on it.
I was really excited, but had a lot to do (in my injured state) before I could move in.
During the inspection, the dude noted there was "significant" rodent damage in the crawlspace and some rodent "activity" in the attic. The previous owner agreed to pay for some of the costs to deal with the rat problem, but I had the impression from both the inspector and the seller that it wasn't going to be a big deal.
It was a HUGE freakin' deal. HUGE.
The rat man cometh and he told me, overalls covered in rat shit -- there were rats EVERYWHERE. Completely infestation. All of the insulation in both the attic and the crawlspace was soaked in rat pee, there were dead rats chillin', and hundreds of them nesting in what was left of the duct work.
Um.
I hate rats.
I fear rats. The mere thought of a rat tail makes me want to scream and be really girly, cowering on a couch.
At that point, all I wanted was for someone to fix the problem. Immediately.
But, of course, the rat man's schedule was booked until the following week. I sure as hell wasn't going spelunking in the crawlspace with those creatures dancing about. (And I couldn't if I wanted to, um, car accident...) I needed to wait until the rat man could come and rescue me from my new rat infested home.
Lovely.
Before the rat man departeth, I was advised not to have food in the house. That freaked me out. And, I have to admit, I didn't really take him seriously. They weren't in the house, right? How could anyone live with rats in their house?
Well...
After, while cleaning the house that afternoon (with one arm -- viva!), I discovered several dead baby rat carcasses (is that what you call them?), sprinkled all over the house. Kitchen, living room, bedroom, guest room, oh, and the bathroom, too.
I decided to take the rat man's advice. AND, I decided that in addition to having no food here, there was no way in hell I was going to sleep in a rat infested house. Regardless of how much money I had just paid for the thing.
At least, until the deratting could be completed. That was the rule.
Take that, rats!
The movers could not be rescheduled, so all of my stuff was schelpped in until the job was finished, I slept on an air mattress at my old apartment.
The rat men were like super heroes. For the first time (maybe ever?) I felt like a damsel in distress, and they came to my rescue. I didn't like feeling I wasn't capable of doing something myself, but in this case, I gladly (and suprisingly easily) surrendered my pride and let them fix it without my help.
The rat dudes replaced all of the insulation in the house, santized everything, removed our dead little friends, and scared the rest away. They are also monitoring the house (with food traps) for the next year.
They did a great job. And were nice dudes. Money (a shitload!) well spent. Problem erased, rather than a band-aid solution.
I closed on the house on July 12. And, after careful consideration, I decided to move myself (with a little help from friends and U-Haul) on July 22, which would give me plenty of time to paint the new pad and get my crap together.
Well, things turned out differently than I had planned.
On June 30, I was involved in a car accident (not my fault, thank you), but I injured my arm, back, shoulder, neck, blah blah. (Yeah, I'm still feeling shitty 6 weeks later... what a nightmare.)
By some miracle, the auto insurance company agreed to pay for professional movers (yippeee!) and my friends (bless them) helped me pack and get ready for the big day. July 16. Earlier than I had planned, but that was the date they had available and I jumped on it.
I was really excited, but had a lot to do (in my injured state) before I could move in.
During the inspection, the dude noted there was "significant" rodent damage in the crawlspace and some rodent "activity" in the attic. The previous owner agreed to pay for some of the costs to deal with the rat problem, but I had the impression from both the inspector and the seller that it wasn't going to be a big deal.
It was a HUGE freakin' deal. HUGE.
The rat man cometh and he told me, overalls covered in rat shit -- there were rats EVERYWHERE. Completely infestation. All of the insulation in both the attic and the crawlspace was soaked in rat pee, there were dead rats chillin', and hundreds of them nesting in what was left of the duct work.
Um.
I hate rats.
I fear rats. The mere thought of a rat tail makes me want to scream and be really girly, cowering on a couch.
At that point, all I wanted was for someone to fix the problem. Immediately.
But, of course, the rat man's schedule was booked until the following week. I sure as hell wasn't going spelunking in the crawlspace with those creatures dancing about. (And I couldn't if I wanted to, um, car accident...) I needed to wait until the rat man could come and rescue me from my new rat infested home.
Lovely.
Before the rat man departeth, I was advised not to have food in the house. That freaked me out. And, I have to admit, I didn't really take him seriously. They weren't in the house, right? How could anyone live with rats in their house?
Well...
After, while cleaning the house that afternoon (with one arm -- viva!), I discovered several dead baby rat carcasses (is that what you call them?), sprinkled all over the house. Kitchen, living room, bedroom, guest room, oh, and the bathroom, too.
I decided to take the rat man's advice. AND, I decided that in addition to having no food here, there was no way in hell I was going to sleep in a rat infested house. Regardless of how much money I had just paid for the thing.
At least, until the deratting could be completed. That was the rule.
Take that, rats!
The movers could not be rescheduled, so all of my stuff was schelpped in until the job was finished, I slept on an air mattress at my old apartment.
The rat men were like super heroes. For the first time (maybe ever?) I felt like a damsel in distress, and they came to my rescue. I didn't like feeling I wasn't capable of doing something myself, but in this case, I gladly (and suprisingly easily) surrendered my pride and let them fix it without my help.
The rat dudes replaced all of the insulation in the house, santized everything, removed our dead little friends, and scared the rest away. They are also monitoring the house (with food traps) for the next year.
They did a great job. And were nice dudes. Money (a shitload!) well spent. Problem erased, rather than a band-aid solution.
The beginning...
The deal:
I'm 35, single, have a mildly insane dog, and just bought a house in a suburb of Seattle.
Bought it -- by myself
Live in it -- by myself with aforementioned insane pooch
I'm hoping this blog will be a way for other single gals with houses to connect, share stories, give advice, and laugh our asses off at the ridiculous perils of home ownership.
And, boy, do I have some stories... and I'd love to hear yours.
This Single Gal
I'm 35, single, have a mildly insane dog, and just bought a house in a suburb of Seattle.
Bought it -- by myself
Live in it -- by myself with aforementioned insane pooch
I'm hoping this blog will be a way for other single gals with houses to connect, share stories, give advice, and laugh our asses off at the ridiculous perils of home ownership.
And, boy, do I have some stories... and I'd love to hear yours.
This Single Gal
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