(no subject)
First off, a news tidbit that amused my admittedly perverse sense of humor:
And the original Fox News item it references:
My opinion on it is rather acidic: Carlson's a pompuos stuffed shirt who's ENTIRELY too filled with himself. And I don't see that he's got ANY right to be 'angry' after defending telemarketers so strenuously AND lying about his phone number. Serves the bastich right.
And on to more serious matters...
The last few weeks have been bumpy for me, emotionally. I hit the bottom of my cycle right as Megan was beginning to recover, and spent a lot of long hours pondering the state of my little universe. The conclusions I arrived at may come as a surprise to some, at least parts of them. All of this (or damned near all) has been run by both Lady Sapphire, my Mistress, and Rowan, who quite capably covers playmate, confidant, conscience, and both big and little sister, depending... At any rate, both of them seemed to agree at least with the underlying theory, and both seemed relieved to discover that I'd neither given up or withdrawn.
In essence, I've spent a goodly amount of time bitching, whining, and elsewise carrying on about Megan... when Megan is not and never has been the real problem. The problem in broad terms is almost entirely financial. In specific, it's this house.
When we bought this place in June of 1998, it looked like the perfect 'starter home' for us. A one level, three bedroom rancher on a fenced corner lot in a quiet community. It seemed well maintained, and was bright and looked clean. And right from the day we signed the papers, there've been problems.
It rained the afternoon we signed the papers, the first rain in almost a month. And when we got to the house that night, I noted with a sigh that there was some MINOR leakage around the walls of the addition. The items that were stacked within it when on wood flats. Had I had ANY idea as to the extent of the leakage, it would never have been used for storage. Nearly everything out there is now slated for the trash; the leaks have ruined fully 60% of my books. We also discovered that the furnace leaked; unfortunately, the leak wasn't discovered until it had already terminally damaged the carpets and the wall behind it. The bathtub ALSO leaks, and badly... another section of wall that needs replacing. The sellers had carefully used cardboard and a bit of plaster to FAKE the bottom of the wall behind the toilet. After a week and a half of the bathtub leaks, it crumbled to reveal the gaping 3" gap left when the original wall had rotted out.
By the end of the second week, I had a list the length of my arm of little things that'd begun to disintegrate. Even the -cleanliness- was lie. Odor in the kitchen had me pulling out the appliances in hunt of the cause... and beneath the stove, stuck to the underside of the broiler drawer, was a package of rotting pork chops. The compressor in the refridgerator died the first weekend. The washer died (and flooded the entire kitchen) the next weekend. The circuit breakers popped any time ANYTHING was plugged in. The flood light on the street side of the house was held on with duct tape and plumber's putty. Two of the three bedroom light switches had shorted out by the end of the first month. There's a wall switch in the dining room area that's hooked to nothing. It just flips. The ballast resistor in the kitchen flourescent fixture blew in the third month... replacing that revealed just how badly the wiring in the house had been butchered.
To give that one a frame of reference: my father is a professional electrician with over 30 years in the trade... he looked at the wiring and then walked out into the yard, refusing to set foot in 'that deathtrap' until I'd agreed to let him remedy the worst of it.
Doorknobs fell off. Windows siezed open -and- closed. Doors refused to open and then refused to shut again. The doors fell off the kitchen cabinets. The ceiling fan fell out of the bathroom ceiling. The phone wiring caught fire. The attic fan melted down. Electrical outlets randomly didn't work. The tv antenna proved to be held on with c-clamps and baling wire. And in the attic, I found a rather gruesome collection of barbie doll heads, hung from the rafters with piano wire.
For five and a half years, Megan and I have been involved in what feels like a running gunfight with this house. The financial strains continued to stack on us. Just before my health failed, we refinanced the house with Household Finance Corporation.
Make no mistake about this: HFC is staffed by some of the worst financial scam artists I've ever encountered in my life. To make matters worse, my ego refused to let me take the paperwork to be looked over by someone impartial. My arrogance combined with their treachery put us in a hole so deep we -still- can't see out of it. Until March of this year, this house was valued at $93,000. And on it, we have three mortgages that tally up to $126,000 and change, at the oh-so-wonderful rates of 11%, 17%, and 19%.
In March of this year, the vacant land behind our community started being turned into a retirement community, with prices slated starting in the low $300,000's... which had the corallary effect of nearly doubling the property values of my side of the community. So what had currently been valued at $93,000 is now being conservatively appraised at $150,000... and I'm busy at work trying to get this place refinanced at a more reasonable interest rate. And the realization that the 'great evil' in life is -not- the other human living here has proved to be a galvanizing idea to Megan and I both. Battle plans are being drawn, with intent to have us out of the nightmarish financial hole in about a year. The task list is as follows:
Granted, there're a ton of minor things, almost incidentals, that flesh that list out. And God only knows what this place'll throw at my head when it realizes I'm -fixing- things. But really the biggest thing here is that Megan and I are working together on this rather than clawing at each other in frustration. There've been several long and very detailed talks between us; the first one was mostly establishing terms of detente, and we built from there.
She's -not- the person I'm destined for. She's -not- the person I'm supposed to be with. But she's NOT my arch foe, and not a source of evil in my life. Yes, there're some maturity problems with her... but I suffer from them in different areas, which makes us equal. She's younger than I, and has led a MUCH tamer and gentler life... the life I've led has wrenched my worldview so far from 'normal' that it's a wonder we manage to communicate at all. But she's an ally... not an enemy.
And this house has picked the wrong person to cross...
And the original Fox News item it references:
My opinion on it is rather acidic: Carlson's a pompuos stuffed shirt who's ENTIRELY too filled with himself. And I don't see that he's got ANY right to be 'angry' after defending telemarketers so strenuously AND lying about his phone number. Serves the bastich right.
And on to more serious matters...
The last few weeks have been bumpy for me, emotionally. I hit the bottom of my cycle right as Megan was beginning to recover, and spent a lot of long hours pondering the state of my little universe. The conclusions I arrived at may come as a surprise to some, at least parts of them. All of this (or damned near all) has been run by both Lady Sapphire, my Mistress, and Rowan, who quite capably covers playmate, confidant, conscience, and both big and little sister, depending... At any rate, both of them seemed to agree at least with the underlying theory, and both seemed relieved to discover that I'd neither given up or withdrawn.
In essence, I've spent a goodly amount of time bitching, whining, and elsewise carrying on about Megan... when Megan is not and never has been the real problem. The problem in broad terms is almost entirely financial. In specific, it's this house.
When we bought this place in June of 1998, it looked like the perfect 'starter home' for us. A one level, three bedroom rancher on a fenced corner lot in a quiet community. It seemed well maintained, and was bright and looked clean. And right from the day we signed the papers, there've been problems.
It rained the afternoon we signed the papers, the first rain in almost a month. And when we got to the house that night, I noted with a sigh that there was some MINOR leakage around the walls of the addition. The items that were stacked within it when on wood flats. Had I had ANY idea as to the extent of the leakage, it would never have been used for storage. Nearly everything out there is now slated for the trash; the leaks have ruined fully 60% of my books. We also discovered that the furnace leaked; unfortunately, the leak wasn't discovered until it had already terminally damaged the carpets and the wall behind it. The bathtub ALSO leaks, and badly... another section of wall that needs replacing. The sellers had carefully used cardboard and a bit of plaster to FAKE the bottom of the wall behind the toilet. After a week and a half of the bathtub leaks, it crumbled to reveal the gaping 3" gap left when the original wall had rotted out.
By the end of the second week, I had a list the length of my arm of little things that'd begun to disintegrate. Even the -cleanliness- was lie. Odor in the kitchen had me pulling out the appliances in hunt of the cause... and beneath the stove, stuck to the underside of the broiler drawer, was a package of rotting pork chops. The compressor in the refridgerator died the first weekend. The washer died (and flooded the entire kitchen) the next weekend. The circuit breakers popped any time ANYTHING was plugged in. The flood light on the street side of the house was held on with duct tape and plumber's putty. Two of the three bedroom light switches had shorted out by the end of the first month. There's a wall switch in the dining room area that's hooked to nothing. It just flips. The ballast resistor in the kitchen flourescent fixture blew in the third month... replacing that revealed just how badly the wiring in the house had been butchered.
To give that one a frame of reference: my father is a professional electrician with over 30 years in the trade... he looked at the wiring and then walked out into the yard, refusing to set foot in 'that deathtrap' until I'd agreed to let him remedy the worst of it.
Doorknobs fell off. Windows siezed open -and- closed. Doors refused to open and then refused to shut again. The doors fell off the kitchen cabinets. The ceiling fan fell out of the bathroom ceiling. The phone wiring caught fire. The attic fan melted down. Electrical outlets randomly didn't work. The tv antenna proved to be held on with c-clamps and baling wire. And in the attic, I found a rather gruesome collection of barbie doll heads, hung from the rafters with piano wire.
For five and a half years, Megan and I have been involved in what feels like a running gunfight with this house. The financial strains continued to stack on us. Just before my health failed, we refinanced the house with Household Finance Corporation.
And they bent us over and raped us.
Make no mistake about this: HFC is staffed by some of the worst financial scam artists I've ever encountered in my life. To make matters worse, my ego refused to let me take the paperwork to be looked over by someone impartial. My arrogance combined with their treachery put us in a hole so deep we -still- can't see out of it. Until March of this year, this house was valued at $93,000. And on it, we have three mortgages that tally up to $126,000 and change, at the oh-so-wonderful rates of 11%, 17%, and 19%.
In March of this year, the vacant land behind our community started being turned into a retirement community, with prices slated starting in the low $300,000's... which had the corallary effect of nearly doubling the property values of my side of the community. So what had currently been valued at $93,000 is now being conservatively appraised at $150,000... and I'm busy at work trying to get this place refinanced at a more reasonable interest rate. And the realization that the 'great evil' in life is -not- the other human living here has proved to be a galvanizing idea to Megan and I both. Battle plans are being drawn, with intent to have us out of the nightmarish financial hole in about a year. The task list is as follows:
- Refinance the house and politely tell HFC to kiss my bumper
- Replace the furnace. Possibly another oil fed hot water unit, though that'll really depend on prices.
- Replace the front gutters (fixing the 'roof' leaks) and install rear gutters.
- Install a water heater [current setup runs the furnace for -everything-]
- Replace the carpeting in the bedrooms.
- Pergo-style flooring for the living room, dining room, and hall.
- Redo the kitchen, including cabinets and floor.
- Replace the shower enclosure, and put the window back in that the prior owners STUPIDLY removed.
- Complete a year of payments on the new loan so that if we decide to sell the place we won't lose everything
Granted, there're a ton of minor things, almost incidentals, that flesh that list out. And God only knows what this place'll throw at my head when it realizes I'm -fixing- things. But really the biggest thing here is that Megan and I are working together on this rather than clawing at each other in frustration. There've been several long and very detailed talks between us; the first one was mostly establishing terms of detente, and we built from there.
She's -not- the person I'm destined for. She's -not- the person I'm supposed to be with. But she's NOT my arch foe, and not a source of evil in my life. Yes, there're some maturity problems with her... but I suffer from them in different areas, which makes us equal. She's younger than I, and has led a MUCH tamer and gentler life... the life I've led has wrenched my worldview so far from 'normal' that it's a wonder we manage to communicate at all. But she's an ally... not an enemy.
And this house has picked the wrong person to cross...