Movin’ On

Casa di Rodan, 1994–2023

After nearly three decades of living in the same house in Greensboro, NC, I have bid the old place adieu. Casa di Rodan (1994–2023) is now sold. It officially belongs to someone else. Brugger and I are more or less settled in my old family house in Martinsville, VA (although the place is still very much in a state of transition — and for cats, a state of confusion). We have a host of reasons for making this move, but the single most significant is the Great Sewer Line Debacle of 2023, from back in March. Because of that single, massive expense, something had to give.

After inheriting my childhood home when Mom died in 2020, I had hoped to keep both it and the Greensboro residence for as long as possible. However, after spending so much money on that accursed sewer line, holding onto both was no longer financially feasible. It wasn’t all that difficult for Brugger and me to determine that keeping the Martinsville house (which Mom called “Pleasant Hill” but that I officially dubbed “Ground Zero”) made the most sense.

And so it is.

I love the prospect of occupying my old childhood home full-time, though I can’t say I don’t have mixed emotions about the whole business. I moved with my ex-wife into the Greensboro house back in 1994, and we lived there together until our separation and subsequent divorce well over a decade ago. For the next ten years, the cats and I lived in the house as a happy family unit. In 2021, Brugger and I married, and we all became a happier family unit. We immediately set to refurbishing the whole house, which proved to be a long, extensive, and not inexpensive job. Despite the house being relatively small and somewhat cramped, we figured we were set there for a long, long time.

No.

Especially during the solo years (well, solo with cats) and the days with Brugger there, I lived some mighty happy times. Hell, even my ex-wife, Peg, and I shared some enjoyable moments in the old place. My tenure there is the longest I’ve ever lived in one place, so I guess I can’t help having developed some attachment to the dwelling. Still, as the negative aspects of staying there have piled up, Ms. B. and I look forward to moving on to this next stage of life, however long it lasts. I’m not that young, and, well, even at the best of times, you never know how things are gonna shake out.

So, there it is. Huzzah. Brugger and I still have many friends in, and solid ties to, NC’s Triad, so it’s not like we’re going to be strangers to the area. Just to the former Casa di Rodan, I reckon.

It’s out with the old and in with the new (or older with a facelift, as it were). Onward and upward, and all that. Or wherever life sees fit to lead us.

Ground Zero

Ain’t That the Shit, Part 2 (Finale, Hopefully)

After spending a full workweek installing a new sewer line at our house, the crew finished up late Friday afternoon, so Brugger and I headed back from our somewhat extended sojourn in Martinsville. The front yard overall is a bit of a muddy, mucky mess, but the guys re-seeded and put straw down, so I very much hope it will return to its former glory (read with distinct irony) in a relatively short time.

So, at long last, we are able to flush again. Oh, wait... no we’re not! Now the downstairs toilet does not refill after flushing. The water in the rest of the house seems okay. So, we immediately recall the guys, who show up again, much to our mutual chagrin. Apparently, during the job, they inadvertently cut (and then repaired) our main supply line, but somewhere in the process, the fill valve in the downstairs toilet blew. Anyway, since that was clearly a consequence of the work, they repaired it, and I so hope this insanely expensive job is done and we will never have to deal with such a thing again in our lifetimes.

They did have to saw off about half the concrete from the driveway where Brugger typically parks her car, so it would behoove us to restore that, I reckon. The big honking excavator should vacate the property come Monday.

And now I have a yucky cold. At least, I think (and hope) that’s all it is. The covidz test was negative.

For now, I is done.

It’s enough to turn some of us into a basket case.

Ain’t That the Shit, Part 1 (Probably)

Water troubles in the homeplace have always been the bane of my existence. Sometimes, I really hate the fact that water is among life’s critical elements because it has caused the single most financially crippling issues ever since I became a homeowner, way back in the dark ages. Flooding, clogged pipes, broken pipes, backed-up sewer lines, and — in this case — a broken sewer line.

The worst problem here is that, originally, the builders ran our sewer line run far onto the adjacent property, and the break is under our neighbors’ driveway. We had a couple of well-rated plumbing firms come out, and both told us we'd need a whole new sewer line cut on our property, as the code is now such that it can't extend onto the neighbors (and I suspect it might have been that way when the houses were built; of course, the builder is now long gone).

Because our house lies down a steep hill, the sewer line is very long and very deep where it connects with the city line at the street. The exact words of both companies describing this situation were “Worst-case scenario.” One company was somewhat less expensive, but they did not seem as thorough in their evaluation or as knowledgeable about working at the depth necessary. The current complication is that they’ve encountered a massive layer of bedrock between the surface and where the line has to go (which is probably why the builders routed it the way they did at the time).

In any event, the financial damage is monstrous, and the front yard — what remains of it — is currently a disaster. It will cost another small fortune to restore it to any sort of respectable state, since the work crew isn’t obliged to do much more than fill the (currently) hazardously deep pit that occupies the entirety of the upper eastern quadrant of our lot.

I’m certain there will be more lovely updates to come. Stay tuned, especially if you enjoy chuckling at others’ tribulations (no guilt here, for I have done so; well, sort of; maybe).

Till then.