We're now living in Nutwood -- the dogs adore it; the cats are getting used to it.
We're living with contractors! They leave their stuff here overnight. That's how we know.
The electricians and the plumber worked on their jobs before we moved in. But Kevin, the contractor, will be here for Weeks. Weeks and Weeks.
He's putting in a fence, so that the dogs can be let out into the backyard without leashes. And he got the rest of the vine off the power lines and the gutter pipe, and cleared out the gutter on that corner of the house. During the daily deluge yesterday I heard the rain running through the downspout. Yes. Good.
And he discovered this morning, after digging up the non-functioning storm drain, that it's clogged with long composted leaves. The gutter and downspout above it are also clogged. And this explains all the water in the basement. I laughed and laughed. It's so simple, really.
And inside the house, we're living still out of boxes; the kitchen has been made usable, but since most of our stuff doesn't fit (it's a kitchen invented by people who lived off take-out, I think), it's still in boxes and we're deciding what to use this year before we can get the kitchen redone. The child's bedroom is done, so he's happy. Our bedroom is pretty much done, though there's bath salts all over it cause there's no place as yet to put them, in the bathroom, which was invented by people who needed neither bathroom storage (there's not even a medicine cabinet) nor towel racks.
This last one really gave me pause. How can you not need towel racks? (And don't explain to me, in the comment section, that hooks on the walls and doors would work. Yes, they would. I f they were there. They're not.)
Every day that goes by, we discover yet another unfathomable decision made by the previous owner. Want a heating vent where the structural beam is? Cut it in pieces! Need to get some of the water out of the basement so you can sell the house? Put in a French drain, instead of cleaning the gutters! Tired of painting the guest bathroom? Cover the untreated walls in poufs of lace!
This goes on and on.
But the computer's connected (hi! did you miss me?) and the kitchen's functional, and the tv's are working, and so are the cd players, and all the boxes of books are unpacked in the library.
All the books. In the library.
Life is good. And the house is wonderful.