The illusion of a secure perimeter

When one door won’t close and another door won’t open, it’s time to replace both of them, and that’s what happened. After 15 months on the property phase one of my renovation plan is complete. I have secured the perimeter.

This was supposed to take me four months. But the costs were higher than expected (which you’d know if you read the last entry) and my life is a balance of many things at once.

Because I can get away with it.

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New door in an old house. 

The fencing is fixed, the exterior doors have been replaced, the most troublesome windows have been summer-proofed and the swamp cooler has been brought back from the dead.

One of those doors is open now, because it is inexplicably 70 degrees in late May.

My grandfather, who built the Arizona room that comprises the rear portion of the house, saw fit to reinforce the bottom door jamb with galvanized fence tubing. Which is very innovative if you never want to replace the door. But if you do,  the door guy earns his fee by spending two hours cutting the thing away with a grinder.

Thanks Grandpa. (I say that a lot when working on the house – in that tone.)

My girlfriend was in town last weekend, so word count stopped at 3500, mostly Jack and writer’s group.

My Thursday night writer’s group no longer meets at the Armadillo Grill. The meeting space we have used since way back when I ran this group’s predecessor has been converted to the manager’s office.

So we have landed at the Duck and Decanter  at 1651 E Camelback – basically across the street.  That worked well last week. Sandwiches aren’t the same as fried calamari, and serving beer is not the same as being a bar, but we had a quiet table, good light, food and beer. I’ve been worse.

Of the many things that Cheryl and I did over the weekend, what was most interesting is what we did not manage to do. We drove north on Monday wit the intent to hike the fabled West Fork of Oak Creek. (Yes, this is in my book: Five Star Hikes Flagstaff and Sedona, along with every other relevant hiking guide ever printed.)

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I took this for the book, but it looked just like this – only hailing.

 

We drove north, however into dark, gathering clouds and plummeting temperatures.

 

 

 

 

Consequently, I can report that the Colt Grill in downtown Cottonwood is an excellent place for a burger and beer and maybe a flight of whiskey samples, and, unlike the Oak Creek trail, we were not getting hailed upon while we enjoyed it.

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Whiskey good. Hail bad. 

If I have a point here, it’s that success, or just getting away with it, is determined as much by how well you recover from mistakes as how well you avoid them.

Sure, I could’ve checked the weather first. But if I’m honest with myself, and by extension you, I would have gone anyway.

But Cheryl might have brought different shoes.

Now we know.

It’s easier to move things than to change information.

I have finished moving about 1000 feet, and can resume thinking about my life i terms of  jobs done and words written, instead of boxes and furniture moved from A to B. Thanks publicly here to all those who helped, with either kind words and thought, but especially those who helped with actual doing of deeds.

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Same dork – new cave

Between what Penny took for herself, and what I left behind as either garbage or charity, I think I have shed 40% of the total inventory of the old place. Now- I still have plenty of stuff. I am uncomfortably close to being a hoarder, but I come by this genetically.

My grandparents bought the house I live in now new in 1952. When he died, and my mother inherited the place, I took custody of a big pile of his accumulated tools and hardware, hauling them a thousand feet south, often on foot.

Now I have finished hauling much of that 1000 feet north again. Some of this stuff will go back to the same place I found it. So it goes.

This place was built at the same time as my old residence, which is, seriously, on the other side of the block. The original (I believe) owner of that house was a mason by trade, so the house has seven foot stone walls around the backyard, and a couple of block wall additions.

My grandfather was an electrician, so I find mystery switches and sockets and cuircuits in every corner. What they both had in common is they did quite a bit of additions to their homes without ever pulling permits.

This was actually my first residence in Phoenix, after my mother’s first divorce forced her to move back to the Valley from Tucson. Through most of my childhood my grandmother was either unemployed or part-time, so my sister and I came here every afternoon after school.  So you think I’d know the place.

Except I have never lived here when it was my role to care which circuit breaker controls which outlets. There are still many details about this house I have yet to discover.

But I’m here now, with time to poke around. I even have the essentials unpacked and arranged in v1.1 of how the house will actually be organized. The hardest part, I have learned, was not the logistics of physically moving. That all went pretty close to plan.

Changing account information with creditors and utilities has been the true nightmare.Some of this is because my wife primarily dealt with the actual paying of the bills, and so her name always comes up first. Most of it, though, is willful incompetence.

Being the sort to name names, here are the worst, in order of incompetence:

Sprint

I am the only person left on the 4 line family plan, and the only one interested at all in keeping service with this company. (I like my phone and own it outright.) I have spent nine+ hours on the phone with their robot drones from Pakistan trying to explain that  I still have no clear path to having a plan with my name on it. I did finally get the useful info that the family plan is basically paid up through the December 24. At that point, the only number my phone will call will be Sprint, where hopefully the bot on the other end can break with script (they are all “very sorry for the inconvenience” and “appreciate my patience” because that’s what their screens prompt them to say.

Or I walk my bricked phone over to Verizon, and they’ll set me up in 30 minutes. (not with the phone I have, of course, or that would have already happened).

Vantage West Credit Union

They own the note on my Soul, which is in Penny’s name, as is the title to my car. So yes, my wife really does own my Soul. This was never Penny’s intention. We think someone at the dealership skipped a line. In either case,  my name is not on my primary transport vehicle, and that’s a problem.

Vantage West won’t change the name on the loan, even though my income and credit were pulled to secure that loan. Their solution: refinance at a higher interest rate.

Cox Communications

I thought this went easy over the phone: new account at a new address (with existing cable – they didn’t even need to send someone) at a lower rate to reflect my simpler needs.

The bill I got had my wife’s name and phone number, but my e-mail, the new address, and the equipment and service details from the previous tenant.

Unlike the other two, Cox has laid out a path to solvency: show up to a retail store with a proof that I live here (My mom created a rental agreement), and this should get fixed.]

UPDATE: I left the solutions store after my second visit thinking we had this solved, and came home to find my internet turned off. A call to technical support finally solved the puzzle: once upon a time I had two modems (an old and a new). They had activated the old one. Obviously, since I can post now, this had been solved.

We shall see.

Anyway, I’m 70% moved in with the 60% of the crap that’s left of my previous life. And I might make word count next week for the first time in a month.