Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Zombies Really DO Walk The Earth

Dear House:

We hate you.  We thought we were in love with you but that was before we got to know you better.  Initially we were happy to devote time and energy to this relationship but you’ve been asking too much of us.  It has become impossible to love you anymore.  It’s difficult to even like you.  Right now you are not the home we envisioned.  You are just a house.

Nice stains, eh?  Just the beginning of the painting.

Since you’ve stopped filling your rooms with smoke we have tried to be understanding and tolerant.  We’ve been doing our best to help you.  We’ve removed the urine-stained and smoke-filled carpeting from your floors and we’ve painted those floors with a stain and smell-blocking primer.   

All floors have since been primed with a smoke-blocking, foam covering primer.

We’ve coated two of your rooms with sweet smelling paint.


 We’ve washed the nicotine from your ceiling.  We’ve washed it from your paneling.   

We’ve painted the nicotine soaked fake brick a soothing shade of gray.

"Just" need to scrape off the backing now. 

We’ve gently separated your walls from the nicotine soaked wallpaper.  We’ve scrubbed every surface within our reach just to help you smell sweeter and restore the confidence you’d lost in your beauty.  Five weekends in a row we have lived on sandwiches because we are too exhausted to cook.  We have crawled into our blowup bed at night with aching joints and fume-filled heads because we are trying to help you with your rehabilitation.  And yet you betrayed us.

The old setup.  I was to exhausted to take a photo of the new one.

When the irrigation pump abruptly quit working just as we were in the midst quenching your never-ending thirst, was it asking too much for you to point out to us where the reset button was?  Were you laughing to yourself when we paid over a thousand dollars to have the pump replaced?  Just to keep you moist and green?  When all we had to do was push “reset?”  Weren’t you satisfied knowing we were going to replace that pump next spring anyway?  Just so your lush green carpet would be watered without the jarring jet-like sounds of that antiquated pump?  That wasn't good enough for you?  You had to force the issue by hiding the reset button?

 And what was your reason for neglecting to tell us a pulsating-sprinkler would cover six or eight times the area than the little twirly sprinklers we bought just for you?  Did watching us stumble out of the house every 30 minutes, weary from painting and scrubbing, to drag a sprinkler to another area of your “body”, tickle your wicked sense of humor?  Just because you were mad that we wised up to your game and purchased a pulsating sprinkler didn't mean you needed to unscrew the pipe under one side of the kitchen sink so the water would cover the bottom of the cabinet and leak through to the basement.  Did you enjoy seeing the look of panic on faces already etched with exhaustion?  It doesn’t matter that the pipe was easily screwed back together.  That was mean.   And there was no reason to cause a small leak in the pipe under the other side of the sink right after we’d screwed the first pipe back together.  That was more than mean; that was just cruel.  

We’ve been trying so hard to help you with your smoking problem.  We wanted to love you.  We DID love you when we first met.  But you are making it difficult to continue the relationship.  We are trying not to hate you but you're not making it easy.  We are trying to look past your flaws toward the beauty and warmth we know is hidden within your walls.  But we are exhausted.  We are dejected and disheartened.  We are filled with regret and questioning our choice to make you part of our family.  

We are drained.   However, we are also stubborn.  We are miserable, hollow-eyed hulks but we are determined. We will tenaciously continue to work toward your recovery.  We have hired a painting therapist and will be hosting a wood floor intervention.  Just for you.  We are hopeful your behavior and outlook will improve after these intercessions because we believe you are not lost.  We want to love you once again. But we've had just about enough from you.  More than enough.  We're really tired of your antics.  We are near to breaking.  So shape up house. 




Jerry said...

The joy of home ownership

Art Elser said...

Good God!! Were those really nicotine stains from the previous owners smoking? I've never seen anything like that. Ugh is right.

Cathy, I love reading your posts, especially when you are exasperated with something or someone. I'm sorry you can't laugh along with us.

Thanks for a good belly laugh. It isn't as funny now that I figured out you were writing about the house and not Dean.

Abby said...

Dear Us,

Take a break. A real one. You won't regret it.



The Fuhrmans said...

Perhaps your house is trying to tell you it needs a break from you too. Perhaps it thinks your moving to fast in this relationship and wishes you would go back to hand holding before you started pointing out all of its faults and ripping off its clothes (err wall paper) in a fit of passion. I know that there are a lot of enjoyable and relaxing times to be had listening to grandchildren playing in a nearby creek. Invite them up and they will happily drive around on your new lawn tractor and remind you why you got into this relationship with your house in the first place...

Susan said...

Cleverly expressed!

Heidrun Khokhar, KleinsteMotte said...

I do love this writing style!
Seems like you also need a break from all the fumes.