Where have I been for the past six months? Obviously, not writing my blog! Instead I was working on a new project. An interesting, fascinating, huge project. I moved to new digs. Again. Here’s the true story. Nothing is changed to protect the guilty.
Last summer I knew I needed to move to a different home. I thought I would be happy living in a beautiful condo in a 55+ community. My unit was on the third floor, overlooking a golf course. What’s not to love? For me, it was everything.
I was so desperate to move that I asked my son, Jason, to negotiate a trade ~ my beautiful condo for a filthy, mouse-infested free-standing home occupied by an extreme hoarder. If you have ever seen a show about hoarders, I assure you that this place was worse. After a whole summer of drama, the hoarder and I finally closed the deal on September 15. And then the fun began! But not before the previous owner (P.O.) filed a police report, accusing me of stealing all her things and “ruining her life.”
My renovation began by moving mountains of P.O.’s possessions. She took some things with her ~ a full Pod plus two U-Haul trailers full of things. What was left behind filled eighteen roll-off dumpsters. Ramón, who had no front teeth, oversaw a crew of ten skinny men, who worked tirelessly for six days filling dumpsters. Every time they thought they had cleared another room in my home, they opened a closet and found a mountain of smelly worthless possessions oozing out onto the floor.
My neighbors were overjoyed that someone new was moving in and that P.O. was moving out. They sat outside in small groups on their lawns and watched the action. They cheered when another dumpster rolled down the street. By the fourth day they were drinking champagne and toasting the dumpster drivers, as yet another dumpster lumbered down the street.
I bought the house, sight unseen because it was not possible for anyone to get past the front door, including an inspector who deemed the house, “the worse (he) had even seen.” When the last dumpster roared away, I was finally able to see the inside of my new home. I was overjoyed. It needed a lot of work and smelled terrible, but it was clearly a diamond in the rough.
Some people rescue children. Some rescue the environment. I guess I rescue houses. I used more than thirty-five vendors in all. They were kind, funny, incredibly skilled tradesmen. They worked well together and sang while they worked. The put in long hours, and often came on Saturdays to finish a project. They were my loyal friends. I could never have moved into my new home without them. I am forever grateful for every one of them.
My story has a happy ending. I spent four months and a considerable amount of money rehabilitating my new home. It’s now beautiful and no longer smells of urine.
I love my new neighborhood and I have great neighbors. I rented the upstairs of my home to a delightful couple from Columbia. I feel like I am back in Mexico, sharing my large kitchen and living with friends from another country. I know I am lucky, indeed.