For those of you following the saga of my parents home, ravaged by rain and the stupidity (lazyness?) of a roofer, there is yet another development. For anyone who knows us, you know that my father is a "collector." Many people might be moved to say pack rat, but we can all agree that there are many layers to the things in my parents home. Many. So many that it is taking more than two weeks to pack up their home by professional packers. And more than 1200 boxes. They haven't even started on the garage.
I can't quite get by that one yet. 1200 boxes. Not done yet. Head explodes. Pick up pieces.
Well, as if that weren't enough, true to form for this house, whenever you poke a hole in its walls it reveals a string of dirty secrets that end up costing huge money. Thankfully, this time the insurance company will be dealing with that end this time, because now they have found asbestos in the ceiling. That's right folks. Tearing down walls, ceilings, and floors is not enough. Now we have a Hazardous Waste Clean up to boot. Joy.
I am so glad that I'm not living there. And equally glad that my parents had insurance to cover this and a hotel room for 3 months. I keep thinking about how tight my house would have been with everyone living here. My kids were all gung ho on the idea. They LOVED the idea of Nana and Papa staying in their very own home. Treats would fall from trees, and movies would play day and night. I certainly wouldn't have minded... but it would have been tight. And very little quiet or privacy for my parents.
But seriously, I keep telling my mom that this is a really good thing, in disguise. Now, perhaps, they will find the last of the skeletons in the closet. The things that really need fixing will get fixed, and not hidden behind the walls. The floors needed replacing, especially the carpets, and everything will be clean and new - in a few months. Oh, and my brother actually moved out! Figures it would take a catastrophe to move him out of his black hole paradise. A young man without a job, and a substantial savings account could not have asked for a better set up than what my brother had. Complete autonomy. A dark room for him to hide from the daylight in. Food at his fingertips. No restrictions to his time. Computer/internet access. TV and stereo system. And, bonus, a girlfriend who didn't mind that he didn't have a job to speak of. Hehe. I love my brother. Not many people could understand why he was so content. But in my secret heart of hearts, I knew exactly why he isn't so keen on finding a job that would dictate his sleeping schedule and thought processes. Sigh. But the other half of me is terribly excited for my parents that he is moved out, and they now actually have a house to themselves. Well, they will, once it is finished. And then watch out! If I know my parents it will be a 2nd (or maybe 4th... 5th...) honeymoon.
Ahhh, love. Oh, and would you like some asbestos with that?
3 comments:
dude, that really sucks. Where are they keeping all your father's stuff while the clean-up is going on?
wait--your brother has a girlfriend?
holy shit, where did the time go? I thought he was, like, 12 or something. dude, i feel old.
What a nightmare.
Twelve...Hundred boxes? I'm trying to picture that, and am finding myself at a loss. I think we made it up to Oregon with less than one hundred. (Of course, your parents have got a couple of decades on us!) :)
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