I'm not the kind of guy to rush into
things, this despite the fact I chose my last two houses on the first
day of those house hunts. Although it took a bit longer to submit a
contract for the Boynton Beach house I purchased in 2001, I saw my Greenville house on
day one of my search and submitted an offer three days later. The
three-day cooling-down period for the Greenville house was only
because I found it on a Greenville trip on Friday, and had to wait
until I was back in Florida on Monday morning to get things rolling.
Should I have taken a little more time
in finding a house in Greenville? Yes, indeed. But, my Boynton house
doubled in value in three years. It caused me to think I was an
expert when I pulled the trigger on the Greenville home. Yeah, right.
Any way, I don't typically rush into
things, particularly when it involves big sums of money. I've been
shopping for a car for 28 years, for example.
Other than some smaller, niggling
maintenance jobs around the house, the next big project will be
remodeling the kitchen. A task requiring ripping out and replacing
all the bottom cabinets, relocating the sink, fridge and dishwasher,
putting down a new floor in the kitchen and dining area, replacing
the counter top, and replacing all the appliances. There is a bit of
related work, as well, like cutting away some of the upper cabinet
where the refrigerator will eventually reside. Even doing the work
myself, I'm figuring a number somewhere between $10,000 and $12,000.
Ouch.
My intention was to embark on this
journey last fall, but my paying work began evaporating in September
and dried up to an agonizing trickle by the end of November. Like the
grasshopper, I hadn't prepared for such a winter downturn. When my
work had been flowing, I was putting money into video gear and trips to
shoot segments for BEER2WHISKEY. Rolling into January 1 of this year, I
didn't have one penny more in savings than I had on that date a year
earlier. In fact, my savings was down about 15 percent. The kitchen
project was on hold.
The first quarter this year wasn't any
better. I wasn't even thinking about the kitchen remodel. Heck, I was
contemplating selling the house. Like someone flipping a switch, work
began again in earnest in April and continues.
Having shoveled some money into my
savings, I am now pondering the kitchen remodel again. One stumbling
block had always been, how much to do? At some point, I will sell
this house. Even though I own it free and clear, it's never really
free or clear. There are taxes, insurance and, maintenance costs. A
couple unavoidable maintenance costs, such as a new roof, sewer line,
air handler and so forth, all come due eventually. I don't want to
deal with any of them. The stay-or-sell question's answer has always
been, sell; but when? If I'm going to sell soon, I will do less in
the kitchen. I won't relocate things, for one. It won't mean a whole
lot in the cost, but will take much less time.
Recently, one of the cracker-box houses
across the side street from me (I live on a corner lot.), was
purchased by an investment company that has poured tens of thousands
into it. That project is wrapping up. This past week, a dumpster appeared in the driveway of the vacant house next to it. Oh, be still
my heart. I've been waiting 11 years for someone to begin pouring
some bucks into my neighborhood, which once was the married-officers
quarters for Donaldson Air Force Base. I live off of one of
Greenville's major drags: Augusta Street (or Road, depending where on it
you are). Less than a mile up Augusta are $300,000 plus homes.
I've been waiting all these years for that to spread south. Looks
like it may now be doing just that.
So, now I am thinking that I will stay
another couple of years, at least, and let my house follow the
neighborhood up in value.
In my spare time the past few days,
I've been online looking at kitchen cabinets and dreaming. I'm still
not quite ready to make a move, but I'm getting closer.
My God, it's magnificent. I've always wanted a Flying Wallendas Bed, and here it is!
I'm not the kind of guy who over
indulges himself, unless you count $100 bottles of bourbon, $500
cowboy boots and $12 per-pair casual socks (love those Bombas). Okay,
so maybe I indulge myself a little. But, the newest piece of
furniture in my house is a $450 expandable dining table and four
wooden folding chairs to match. I bought it six or seven years ago.
It has been used exactly once. Virtually every other stick of
furniture in my house is at least 20 years old.
Yep, it's 2014, and the solitary time this expandable dining table has been used.
I have purchased one suit in 20 years –
a black one I bought on sale online at Joseph A Bank a year or
so ago. I bought it to wear on the very rare
occasions that my funeral-home-owning friends need an extra old man
to stand around solemnly and nod at mourners. It was a business
expense, really. I only need work another 35 hours at the funeral
home to pay for it, the white shirts, conservative ties and black
London Fog raincoat that comprises the total ensembles. My friends,
of course, could just dress me in it when I die. In any event, it is
pretty much reserved for funeral-home use.
So, recently pulling the trigger on a
$700 mattress was a big deal. My old mattress was at least 25 years old. The girl I was dating at the time and I went on a mattress-buying outing one Saturday. We decided we would each buy the same mattress/box-spring set for our apartments. That way, it didn't matter whose bed we wound up in, it would be familiar. Ah, to be young and silly again. I'm sure she's been through at least two or three mattresses since our pact, but, being a guy, I had the same mattress through six residences, a half-dozen relationships and a quarter of a century. Time to buy a mattress.
In fact, I pulled the mattress-buying trigger twice.
The first time was the Thursday or Friday of Memorial Day weekend. As
every red-blooded American should, I marked Memorial Day by buying a
mattress because I couldn't wait until the President's Day sales next
year. I found a 14-inch Novaform mattress at Costco regularly priced
at $899; I bought it for $699. The shipping was free with a promise
of 5 to 10 days delivery. The date of purchase was either May 23rd
or May 24th. I wasn't leaving home again on a trip until
June 7th. That was at least 13 days from purchase. Plenty
of time for a parcel promised in 5 to 10 days to arrive. The odds
were with me that it would actually be less than 10 days, I reasoned.
My strategy seemed to be validated with
a Costco e-mail the following Wednesday (5/29) that my mattress had
shipped and delivery was scheduled for Friday (5/31) before 7:30 p.m.
Well, 7:30 p.m. Friday came and went. No mattress. I logged onto Costco's Website
to check its tracking update for my mattress only to discover that it
shipped from Tupelo, Mississippi on Wednesday, making landfall 185
miles southwest in Jackson, Miss around midnight. And, it was still
sitting there.
I thought, okay, I'll probably see it
the following Monday (6/3). Nope. I rechecked the tracker: still in
Jackson. I live chatted UPS to ask why the hell my mattress was still
in Jackson. “We don't work on the weekends,” I was told. Well, we
all know that's not true. UPS trucks are zipping around all the time.
But, maybe the warehouse crews don't work weekends. The next day
(Tuesday 6/4), or day 11 of this fiasco, my mattress is still sitting
in, wait for it.....Jackson. I could have loaded the damn thing in a
wheelbarrow and pushed it from Tupelo to Jackson in 11 days. Point of
fact, I wouldn't have pushed it to Jackson because it's the wrong
direction. It's southwest for crying out loud. I would have pushed it
north east 185 miles, give or take, to Birmingham, Alabama.
On Tuesday morning, I live chatted
customer service at Costco. I was told that if I factored in Memorial
day and weekends, that my mattress wasn't really due at my house
before Friday (6/7). I'm like, “Okay, can you tell me exactly what
date to expect it?”
“No, we can't guarantee delivery
dates.”
“Well,” I responded, “Costco had
no problem promising delivery when it shipped.”
“That's why we don't guarantee
delivery dates.”
“So, what you're telling me is, if
it's not here by Friday evening, I should get back in touch, right?
That's your answer?”
“Yes,” she replied.
I explained why that wasn't going to
work. I was leaving town on Friday morning and that mattress wouldn't
last in my carport over the weekend. The only things I can put in my
carport overnight with any reasonable expectation they will still be
there the next morning are a car and an anvil. I can't take a chance
on it arriving while I was gone, I told her. Then she said the magic
words: “Do you want to cancel?” Why, yes, I do.
That conversation took place the
morning of June 4th. Today is June 16th and I'm
still waiting for my $700 refund to appear in my bank account. Let's
see, carry the one...that's 12 days. I checked the tracker on
Wednesday (6/5) and it informed me the order was cancelled and the
mattress was on its never-ending journey back to Tupelo.
The moral of the story is, I'll never
again buy anything from Costco that I can't load in a cart and push
out the door of a Costco store. It's easy to be spoiled by Amazon Prime, but I
think even the U.S. Post Office can move a package farther than 200
miles in 11 days. Oh, and so can some other Internet retailers.
Well, I got it this far. (Notice the unexpanded version of my dinning table to the left.).
Right after I ordered the mattress from
Costco, I went to the Website of Wholesale Beddings and ordered
sheets. They were having a sale, too. I screwed up and ordered a set
of regular fitted sheets and hit Purchase. Once I had done that, I
couldn't find a way to cancel that order. I went ahead and ordered a
set of special fitted sheets to accommodate a 14-inch mattress. They
arrived at my door four days later. Of course, now I didn't have a
mattress to put them on. Well, the regular set I could have kept and
used on my bed, but I didn't need them.
Now, I had two sets of sheets to
return. That seemed like a lot of extra effort, which is verboten in
the slacker code. I got back online searching for foam-mattress
deals. I found a 14-inch Simmons Beauty Rest foam mattress at
Overstock.com. Supposedly it was a $2,000 mattress on sale for $700.
I seriously doubt it's regularly priced at two grand, but I'm sure it
was a deal nonetheless.
Oh, crap. How do I get this 98-lb thing up the stairs?
I pulled the trigger again. This time I
was able to pay through PayPal. What do you know, it showed up at my
house three days later. Three days, Costco!
Rolled up in a box, the parcel tipped
the scale at 98 pounds, according to the UPS label. It was up to me
to somehow wrestle this nearly 100-pound load into the house, up the stairs
and onto my box springs, which I decided to keep when I hauled the
old mattress to the dump.
Opening the back door, I laid the box
down with the top against the top step going into the house, lifted
up the back end and shoved. I set it back on its end in the dining
area. Handles were cut into two sides of the box, I grabbed one and
dragged the box to the steps going to the third level. Now what?
It's all down hill from here.
Laying the box down against the second
step I flipped it end over end up the stairs until it rested on
hallway floor. Then it was just a matter of dragging it into the
master bedroom.
I cut open the top end of the box,
revealing the plastic-wrapped mattress. Flipping the box one last
time, I shook out the rolled-up mattress, which I then leaned on the
bed rail and pushed up onto the box springs. I had to cut away the
plastic wrapping.
Springing open, the mattress itself was
still encased in a plastic wrapper, but it flattened out.
Sizing it up, I convinced myself that
it was the wrong mattress. It sure didn't look to be 14 inches high.
I grabbed a tape measure, calculating it was a mere 7-inches high. I
could hear it taking in air, but had serious doubts it would suck in
enough air to bring its height to 14 inches.
It continued to grow. Within 10
minutes, it was indeed 14 inches high. I cut away the plastic casing,
and behold, the Bed Magnifico! I was able to stretch the old mattress
pad over it. After washing the new sheets, I made up the bed. My God,
it's magnificent!
I've always wanted a Flying Wallendas
bed. You know, one you need to take a running leap and spring up
into. Or, find an assistant to bend down, make a cradle with their hands and alley-oop you up into the bed. Now, I finally have one. This time of year I typically sleep in
the guest room on the lowest level of the house. It's cooler. I'd
need to turn the air conditioner down another 5 to 8 degrees to get
the temp cool enough on the third level to sleep. But, the night temps this
week were mild enough that the air conditioner wasn't going to kick
in. I opened the windows in the master bedroom and put in my fourth
night on the new mattress last night.
At this stage of my life, I don't sleep
all that well and need all the help I can get. I couldn't be happier with
this mattress. I dread heading back down to the guest room as the
night temps get back up to where they are historically this time of
year.
But, now, I have another reason,
besides football, to look forward to fall.
Some nameless group of undergrads taking a shot in front of our Sig Fiji House.
I'm not the kind of guy who dwells on
the past. For one thing, at my age I find myself with more history
than I have time to contemplate. For another, there's not much that
can be done about it. I must admit, it's also a bit painful thinking
about the steady diet of fun I had for decades, as compared with my
rather sedate life style today. One word pretty well sums up my life
today by its standards three decades ago: BORING! Yawn.
I was forced to mull over a chunk of my
past a couple of weeks ago while visiting a fraternity brother who
resides near Dayton, Ohio. Of course, whenever any of us get
together, conversation always lands decades in the past, reliving
antics revolving around our membership in the Phi Gamma Delta (Fiji)
fraternity at Wittenberg University. Ours is Sigma Chapter,
identifying it as the 18th chapter formed of a fraternity
dating back to 1848. Today there are somewhere in the neighborhood of
160 undergraduate chapters and colonies. Not bad in an era of a dying
Greek system.
To say that Sigma Chapter had a rocky
year in 2019, would be an understatement of Biblical proportions. A
major fundraising effort to rebuild the fraternity house, which
apparently was no longer habitable, came up short. There wasn't the
money to demolish it and then rebuild it. The fallback plan was to
demolish the old chapter house, relocating the chapter to the former
Chi-O house next door. Sitting next to one another, both houses were
former mansions on a hill overlooking downtown Springfield. Not much
of a view, I'll grant you; but certainly a prime location, removed a
few blocks from campus, for a fraternity house.
Yep, this is the fallback. The former Chi-O house.
Today, the Chi-O house is no prize
either. It's in need of a lot of work, but evidently not in as bad as
shape as the old Fiji house. Decorum prevents me from going into a
lot of detail about our relationship with the Chi-Os when I lived in
the Fiji house in the early 1970s, but I did chuckle at the prospect
of that house being converted into the new Fiji house. I will say,
though, that one of my fondest memories involving a Chi-O sister was
standing on the porch roof (Sunova Beach, we called it.) of the Fiji
house and dumping a full beer on the head of a Chi-O standing on the
front porch steps 10 feet below as she was delivering a load of crap
to one of my brothers. She had screwed him over in some way that now
escapes me. But, being me, I determined that having wronged a brother, she deserved a Schlitz shower. Ah,
the good old days.....
Otherwise, we would always scoop up a
couple of the Chi-Os who were studying late when we would make a
midnight run to the donut shop in Yellow Springs. It opened at
midnight with fresh donuts rolling right out of the oven. And, yes,
it is that Yellow Spings: home of Antioch College. We would pile six
or eight of us, and a couple of assorted Chi-Os. into a car and drive the 20
minutes to Yellow Springs.
Bluto: "Christ, seven years of college down the drain."
Back to the story. So, after sorting out the bulk of the
house renovation issues with scores of graduate brothers kicking in
all sorts of cash to the project (Disclaimer: I wasn't one of them.),
the current undergraduate members managed to get the fraternity booted off of campus. Yep, officially, there's no Fiji chapter at
Wittenberg until the last undergraduate member graduates in 2022 or
whenever. If there's a Bluto among them, it could be even longer.
2025?
Now you have the pertinent background.
This is the driveway into the back parking lot blocked by flotsam from the now torn-down house. That's The Shanty in the background.
So, my fraternity brother Ports and I
decide we would take a stroll (or in this case drive) down memory
lane and visit the Wittenberg campus. Springfield is a 30-minute
drive from his home. Our first stop was at the Fiji house. This being
late May, the school year was already over and most of the students
gone. Driving up what used to be the house driveway we found an empty
lot where the house once stood and our path blocked by a pile of
discarded furniture and mattresses in the driveway. We had kidded
earlier that we should find an old sofa to take with us, dump it on
the driveway and set it on fire. We did that very thing with one of
our sofas at the end of our senior year. We dragged it out a
third-floor window, tossed it off the roof onto the drive way and set
it aflame. Good times, right?
I can't tell you the sense of loss we
both felt as we stood on the driveway looking at a blank space where
the house once stood. The finality of it was almost too much to
ponder. All that remains of the original structures is a small
three-person residence building called The Shanty at the rear of the
property.
We were both spring pledges our freshman year. The next three years were three of the best years of my life. I'd go back and do it all over again in a heartbeat. Seeing the house gone, cut a chunk out of me.
We wandered around the empty lot and
then around the old Chi-O house in a fog. It was utterly disturbing.
I hadn't been back to Wittenberg for any of the annual Fiji events
aimed at graduate members in well over 15 years. At this point, I
doubt I ever will again. For ever and ever, Amen.
