Inside/Outside projects 2019

Our Spring projects this year include some inside and outside honey-dos. First on tap indoors, is redoing our master shower. We've been collecting bids for over a year, and finally, hubby had enough. He picked a guy, made some purchases, and we are patiently waiting for the eight week back ordered products. This was done while I was not at home--as my hubby loves to do things when I'm gone--so this redo shower project will be a surprise to me.

Each time we did have a bathroom company come to give us an estimate (when I was home), they wanted to demolish and redo the entire bathroom. The space is small, more a closet than a bathroom, and there really isn't much to do in the area. But companies want to make a huge mess by chipping away and drywalling my tiled walls, and because there is nothing wrong with the tiled walls, I said, uh, no.

The designers shook their heads, and I read their minds: this poor woman doesn't understand the increase of value.

But I do. It's just that I like breathing clean air. The shower will be bad enough.

Our outside projects began first with the screen. Scroll down for those stories if you missed them. Because we did so well with that project, we kept on moving.

Our backyard once held a slab of concrete, a grapefruit tree that mass-produced delicious pink fruit during the season, and an avocado tree that produced one avocado every two years. We eventually redid the back yard, not once, but twice, and it currently houses a pool and screened porch.

Outside the screen, running alongside, we have...mulch. Not grass. Mulch. And some rocks that hubby apparently thought lovely although I've yet to see the aesthetic value. Oh, and my mother's pineapple plants with my own additions from the fruit those plants produced.

It isn't pretty.

Once upon a time, we had grass, but it eventually died in the Florida heat, and hubby refused to replace it because it meant a sprinkler system. I decided this year that I'd had enough and that was all it took for hubby to act. Obviously, it bothered him just as much.

We set about calling patio companies, and the first guy who arrived to give an estimate got the job. He worked for himself, had large muscles that I could observe for writing research, offered up useful advice, and did the job in four days. We now have a lovely outdoor patio and walkway.

I've tried to commission my SIL in Indiana to plant some flowers along the walkway and/or decorate but she has yet to jump on a plane. Apparently, the hubby is set to tackle that project this weekend. Along with changing out the toilet in our bathroom. I've arranged to be gone on Saturday. There will be no blog posts on either of those unless the project flows into Sunday...

Here's hoping that doesn't happen...

April Fool's 2019

With Spring comes cleaning. It's like an unwritten rule that we clean our houses and spruce up our yards, and I think next year that I'm going to rebel and do all of this in the Florida winter. 

Since Spring sprung, my husband has walked the perimeter of the house, making mental lists of items and chores he believes should be taken care of in the next couple of months. When the man decides on something, he doesn't hesitate. 

Number one on the list was taking care of the ripped screens over our pool and deck that Hurricane Irma had damaged. Minor considering what the old gal could've done, but the holes were letting in way too much pollen this year in my pool, and thus replacing the screen went on the list.

My husband is the champion of estimates. He loves Angie's List. We have a steady stream of companies traipsing on and off our property leaving official documents stuck inside the front door. Sometimes he remembers to tell me about this and most times he doesn't. We seem to have a communication gap meaning that he doesn't get his point across as well as I would like him to.

We'd already had one company give us an estimate on rescreening the entire porch, and hubby seemed satisfied and mentioned that he would probably go with that company. So, it was a surprise when he called me this morning to give me a heads up to the fact that a screening guy was coming by to look at our screen. I took that to mean he was getting a second estimate.

First, however, to arrive, was a guy I'd scheduled to clean my carpets. I've had the carpets for more than five years and never had it professionally cleaned, and it was one of those cold calls where they offer you a deal, and you end up paying more. Whatever. The carpets needed cleaning. The man was built like a romance cover model, and I had high hopes of watching him work so that I could get some descriptive adjectives for my book. We chatted, he got to work, and I fired up my computer intent on research.

Unfortunately, before the computer was done booting, a truck pulled up to the front of my house. The screen guy. I latched the yapping dog on to his leash and strolled outside to meet them. One tall guy. One short guy. The short guy wore socks and Adidas sandals and drove the beat-up truck with magnets affixed to its side advertising the company. I couldn't make it out. I welcomed them and led them around the side of the house to the screened-in porch. Some thoughts as I did so:

• Two guys for an estimate?
• It sure took them long enough to get out of the car just to view a screened porch.
• Not sure why Tall Guy is bringing in a considerable drink container for the few minutes it will take to measure. 

But I didn't have time for my thoughts because the carpet hottie was alone inside my house, so I asked them if they needed me for anything.

Tall guy: "Which panels are you looking at?"

Me: "What?"

Tall guy: "The panels you want to be replaced?"

Me: "Is that what he told you? To just do the ones with holes?"

Tall guy: "We were told replace 7 to 8 screens."

Uh, okay. That's about how many were ripped via Irma, and I had earlier inquired as to why my husband was not just replacing those instead of the whole porch and silly me, but I thought maybe the guy had listened to me. So, I took them inside the porch and began pointing out holes. I mean, seriously, they needed my help? Okay then. I helped. Point, point, point. The guy counted as I pointed. One, two, three. 

We were up to six. Tall Guy was standing at the side of the deck, and Short Guy was standing at the end of the deck, and I jabbed my finger right where Short Guy was standing.to show him another hole about the size of a pencil eraser. Tall Guy counts seven, nods, and Short Guy removes a razor blade from his pocket and slices a slash across my screen. Before I could even get my mouth open to protest, Tall Guy slashes the screen he is standing in front of.

Me: "WHY DID YOU DO THAT? WHAT ARE YOU DOING??"

I couldn't wrap my head around what was happening, but these guys kept slashing. It was like a scene from a horror film only instead of blood and guts oozing from body parts, I saw critters and leaves and pollen in my pool. What the fuck?

Me: "STOP THAT! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?"

Tall guy: "Because we're replacing your screens." 

He said it matter-of-factly, and I opened and closed my mouth several times, and then I turned around and walked into the house where I immediately called my husband in hysteria.

Me: "Are these guys doing the job? Replacing the damaged screens?"

Tom: "No, just giving me an estimate."

Me: "WELL, THEY JUST RIPPED THE SCREENS WITH KNIVES!! THEY THINK THEY ARE HERE TO REPLACE THE DAMAGED SCREENS. THEY RIPPED IT. WITH KNIVES." 

I think that's what I said. It may have come out more jumbled together because I was having an anxiety-riddled, hysteria, gasping for breath moment. All with the background noise of the carpet cleaner. 

I took the phone out to the truck, where the two guys were removing tools. That's when I noticed that the magnet signs on the truck had colored tape across the name. I asked for a business card. It did not match the name displayed under the tape. 

Tall Guy took the phone to talk to Tom. It was a heated discussion. It got more heated when Tall Guy accused me of telling them to do the work. Oh, no, you didn't, buddy. I started shouting, reminding him of my earlier screaming when they'd sliced and diced. He ignored me. I looked at Short Guy.

Me: "Dude, you know the truth."

Tall Guy handed me back my phone and got on his phone to call the company. He was pissed! I trudged back into the house, talking to the husband, who insisted I not let these guys leave without repairing our screens. 

What? Like what was he expecting me to do? Grab these two by their ankles and hold on for dear life? What part of they slashed the screen with razor blades did he not hear?

Meanwhile, in the middle of this, my friend called. I hysterically gave her the shortened version, and she offered to drive over to protect me in case they turned their blades on me.

Me: "Nah, it's okay. I have the hottie carpet cleaning guy with big muscles."

Tall guy's conversation with his boss took about half an hour. Tall Guy was quite heated. I snuck around, taking pictures of them through various windows because even though I'm a writer, I suck as a witness in a description of culprits. It might be the hysteria part of me. 

Hottie carpet cleaning guy finished his job and listened to the sordid tale. He shook his head, tsked in the right places, pointed out that these guys were in sandals, and basked in the glow that I considered him a protector. He told me he hated to leave me. I refrained from whining about not getting to use him for research purposes. I sent him on his way and proceeded to wander from window to window, spying on the screen rippers.

Eventually, Tall Guy came to my front door. We engaged in a civil conversation. I told him I didn't blame him. He was doing what his boss told him to do. He had a work order to replace 7 to 8 screens. He appreciated my understanding and proceeded to discuss an estimate. 

It seemed the company Tom had called hired out Tall Guy's company due to a lack of workers. So, really we had two companies involved in this mess, and neither one wanted to fix the problem. Tall Guy wouldn't get paid if he did it, and the other company guy was just off the grid. 

I called Tom.

Tall Guy and Tom talked. They worked out a deal to replace the damaged and now sliced screens for $500. Twelve screens. Tall Guy and Short Guy, whose names I did eventually learn, went off and did the job. It looks great. I think in the end we got the better deal. What ultimately was a $2,000 job only cost us $500 to replace the damaged screens.

It does not, however, factor in the hours lost of my life--due to hysteria and fear, nor does it factor in the loss of my research. But hey, as I always say:

Me: "Thanks for the blog entry."

Update: In the end, the work was shoddy. The two had to return the next day to finish a screen they'd missed. Several weeks later, we had the entire porch re-screened by my breakfast friend. We lost the $500.

Kill the mustard algae

This past summer pool care became my chore. Before then, it belonged to my husband--that whole indoors/outdoors pact I insisted we make and I hold him to it, so he takes care of what is outside the house and I the inside. To be fair, I think he enjoyed maintaining the pool. He found it relaxing after a long day indoors at a desk. But this summer, I took over due to time constraints and my own search for relaxation or maybe an escape from something indoors. I.E., writing the book?

It kicked my ass. Maintaining the pool against Florida's summer weather and yellow mustard algae sneaking in overnight to cover the sides of my pool even though I'D JUST VACUUMED IT SEVERAL HOURS PRIOR, was a nightmare. It was a tiny war I would never become victorious in, and it was a constant fight. If prepping to vacuum wasn't such a chore, I might have won at least once a day, but getting out the vacuum and hooking it up is worse than the task itself!

Our vacuum is coiled inside a plastic bin on the outside of our screened in patio. It has to be uncoiled, brought through the propped open door, attached to the vacuum, and then filled with water. It sounds easy, but believe me, it isn't. 

First, there is the issue of the coiling that has to be done when putting the vacuum hose back into the bin. It doesn't tuck in nicely. Oh, no. It has to be twisted and twisted into various positions, and that means the process has to be reversed when getting the hose out for vacuuming. Secondly, once the hose and vacuum are ready and in the pool, I have to make sure the pole is secure enough that when I leave it to turn on the pump, the damn thing won't slip to the bottom. If it does, I have to enter the pool to retrieve it.

It's a terrible job.

By the time I'm ready to vacuum the pool, which takes all of fifteen minutes, seeing that our pool is small and made of fiberglass, I'm soaking wet. SOPPING WET. Drenched in sweat from the 100% humidity and 95-degree weather and blaring sun we get in the summer. I'm blind in both eyes from salty sweat, and I have a disposition that matches the heat of the sun. It isn't pretty. The only good side is I get to jump into the water when the pool is finally vacuumed. If I don't have somewhere else that I need to be.

By early September of last summer, I decided we needed a creeping vacuum. Last weekend I researched them, so I'd have plenty of time to prep the husband toward this purchase and be ready for summer, which is arriving sooner than last year if heat is any indication. My husband is big into researching any big-ticket items, and thus, I began by Googling the top automatic pool vacuum cleaners.

It wasn't difficult. There were plenty of sites where experts and everyday people tried out several brands of such vacuums and shared their knowledge and wisdom. Most all of the sites listed one vacuum in each category, including the best vacuum for an economical price. This is the one I wanted because not only would it convince the husband, but my pool is not a large hole with a capacity to hold a hydrant of water. It is small. It doesn't need some crazy expensive roving vacuum that licks the sides and bottoms of my pool with a tongue.

I read the comments on Amazon, where I could purchase the vacuum, doing so aloud so the husband could hear. I spent most of Sunday morning researching. By the time I was finished I had decided on this vacuum:

I announced my decision, put it into my Amazon wish list for later, and closed the computer to move on to my writing.

Tom: "Wait, what did you decide? Did you find a vacuum?"

Bottom line? He conducted his own research. He does this often. He tells me to research something, doesn't believe me when I offer the results, and does it himself. I should be used to this by now, yet it annoys me every time. I left him to it, and in the end, he agreed that for less than a hundred dollars, we should buy the vacuum, and he did. Ordered it right up. In February.

It arrived two days later. Saturday, we tackled installation.

He has a system. He likes to take everything out of the box and lay it out to make sure all of the pieces have come in the box. Me? I cut to the chase, read the directions, and pull out the parts when needed. I did that earlier in the day just to be sure we had everything. This way, I was prepared for his nonsense.

It didn't seem that complicated. I read the directions, and he listened. Then he asked questions, and I reread the instructions. From there, he took the manual, read the directions, and did what it said. We should have our own YouTube channel.

It was a quick installation, although there was more horsing around than constructing, and eventually, the vacuum was ready to go. We powered it on, made a few minor adjustments that required my entering the water to knee level, but for the most part, it worked like every vacuum I've ever encountered in my visits to a vast amount of different pools over the years as a swimming instructor. 

If it cleans even half the amount of mustard algae this summer, I will have gotten my money's worth. Fingers crossed. 

Hanging Photos

I got rid of my dining room because it had become Tom's office. I made it into a study, which is really Tom's office. I had a vision of what I wanted and one of the things in my vision was covering the walls with my kids' artwork and pictures. Today I worked on making this a reality.

I have had the main wall mapped out for some time. The other day I bought the frames, and with my friend, SueG's help we began the task of hanging the photos. I am not a bad hanger when it comes to pictures. When I was a youngster I hung first pictures of Lance Kerwin, then Shaun Cassidy and Parker Stevenson and finally Tom Selleck on my bedroom walls. But these were pictures ripped out of Tiger Beat Magazine and not framed. (Well, except for that one Tom Selleck framed photo) I eventually moved on to framed photos.

One day I hung a collage of frames and pictures on one of my walls. My work ethic went like this: I would hold up the picture, stand at arm's length to eye it, mark it with a pencil, hammer in the nail, hang the picture. Then I moved on to the next one. Just as I was finishing this job my father happen by the doorway to my room. He was appalled at my technique. He wanted to enlighten me by explaining how I should be measuring from the ceiling down and how I should be measuring in between each frame so the distance would be the same. I pointed out that everything looked even. He went outside and brought back a yardstick and proceeded to measure what I had hung. It was almost perfect. He never questioned me again. Thus I was born to hang pictures.

Today was a tad harder than those days in my bedroom. First of all SueG and I argued about how high to start. She wanted to start almost to the ceiling and I pointed out that all the experts state that frames should be at eye level. I won't repeat what she replied as SueG can be a bit colorful, but I did win the argument. We worked out the following arrangement: SueG did all the math and measurements. I decided whether things were crooked or even and did all the hammering and hanging. It took forever.

By the time we had to leave we still had 7 frames left to hang. Later that evening I attempted to finish the job. I got 2 frames done to complete the second row and then realized that the third row was not going to work. Not only would it be too low on the wall, but three of the frames would not be spaced right because we had measured incorrectly. I decided the job looked fine the way it was and declared it complete (after making several frantic calls to people I knew).

The other wall was done by my husband. It took way longer and he was a tad grouchy at the end. But I'm happy with the results. Once I get real photos in them I will post close-ups.

I can see!

I have never had enough lighting in my living room. There is no overhead lighting and we've had to rely on lamps for years. My friend SueG's husband is an architect and she offered him as a consultant as to how to make our living room more seeable.

He suggested canned lighting and thus we began looking for electricians who could put in the lighting arrangement that our consultant suggested. The first estimate was high, but the guy giving it was hot. I voted for him.

The second guy never called back.

The third electrician promised to call back, didn't, and when Tom called him again he promised to call or come by. He did neither. He finally called again a few weeks later. He came in with a bid that was half of the first one and we hired him a few hours later. He had done work for my Steelers buddy Scott so we knew he did decent work.

This week the construction began. Our hired gun was supposed to be at the house to begin work at ten o'clock. He actually arrived at 2:30 PM without his promised sidekick. He had many excuses, worked until 6:30 PM and promised to return the next morning.

He arrived the next day, this time only 45 minutes later, with his sidekick, Jorge. They worked all day and they made me work all day. I ran to and from Home Depot picking up supplies and fixtures and a ceiling fan, etc. until I collapsed on the floor of said store in tears around 7:00 PM.

The work was finally completed that evening. They left and I cleaned (on my hands and knees) the horrible construction mess they left me until midnight.

Tom disliked several things including a wall mount and the canned lights we had put in. He corrected the construction job the next day, taking my place of running back and forth to Home Depot.

Everything was finished by 8:00 PM Saturday evening. I now have canned lights and can see in my living room.

We rearranged the furniture and it is like I have a brand new living room. I love it! Next up is finishing the study.