I’m Going To Write A Country Song
I’m going to write a country song. I’m going to call it “I Hate My House But I Love My Home.”
I don’t know if you can relate, and for your sake I hope you can’t. But if you do, we’ll sing our song together cuz’ we understand each other’s pain.
And then we’ll go outside and you can help me jack up the front porch that’s suddenly decided to collapse.
Our. Front. Porch. Collapsed.
Did you happen to notice what was providing the support for the porch’s foundation? Yeah…it’s what appears to be part of a telephone pole.
Had I noticed what appeared to be part of a telephone pole underneath my porch before? Absolutely! Was I aware that that piece of a telephone pole was the only support for my porch column? Uhhh…no. (And btw…I’m now aware that its twin is supporting the other column).
That’s one of the the joys of our house. It’s continually surprising us with unexpected treasures. (In case you didn’t quite pick up on the sarcasm there let me just say…that was sarcasm at its finest).
Right now there are at least four people I want to choke with my bare hands.
- This house’s previous owner…a DIYer who neither knew what he was doing or bothered to find out and who apparently renovated this place with whatever supplies he could beg, borrow, steal or drag in from the yard.
- The home inspector The Hubster hired before he bought this place. I’m not sure whose house he inspected, but it wasn’t this one.
- The Hubster who couldn’t see past the six acres and his vision of a fishing pond and horse stables to see what a white elephant this place was.
- Myself..who was so crazy, madly in love at the moment The Hubster (who was then The Boyfriend) said, “The only way I’m coming off this land is in a pine box” that I failed to put him in one.
And last night when The Hubster arrived home from work and I took him out front to show him our impending disaster, this is how the conversation went.
ME: See? I told you it was collapsing.
HUB: Awww…it’s not that bad.
ME: What do you mean it’s not that bad? Do you not see that the base of that post is shifted to the right about two inches?
HUB: So we’ll jack it up and put in concrete piers.
ME: That’s not all we’re going to have to do.
HUB: It only needs new supports.
ME: We’re going to have to replace all of the decking boards and the framing and maybe even some of the joists.
HUB: No we won’t. We can salvage a lot of what’s here already.
ME: Honey…the decking boards beneath the post are split.
HUB: So we’ll replace those two boards.
ME: No…we’re going to replace all of them. I’ve been telling you for the last five years that we needed to replace them. All the primer and paint in the world cannot restore those boards. The southern exposure is killing them.
HUB: You’re making a much bigger deal out of this than it has to be.
ME: You’re right. The fact that our front porch is collapsing and may very well rip right off the front of our house isn’t a big deal. I’m just being a hysterical female.
HUB: Was that sarcasm?
ME: Yeah…at its finest.
I love him, I adore him, I can’t imagine my life without him, but sometimes I wonder if he isn’t distantly related to the previous owner.
So…my lumber budget for Lulu’s new daybed and trundle has just been reallocated for front porch repair.
So…stay tuned. I’ll have lots of pictures and more husband/wife dialog in the coming days as we embark on this project.
I. Can’t. Wait.
Yeah…sarcasm at its finest.