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And we’re back to the window nightmare.

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Work moved on to the three remaining windows that needed replacing in our bedroom and as with every single other project we attempt in this house, it was a monumental f*ck up.

These are the old windows, stripped of trim and ready to be removed.

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Yes, that’s snow you see outside.

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Ideal conditions for exterior work.

Not.

The trouble began when the first small window was removed and its replacement was fitted.

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The problem? It didn’t fit.

Because it was too big.

Incorrect measurements by our contractor? He says no and has the paperwork to prove it.

Incorrect measurements by the retailer? They say no and have the paperwork to prove it.

Incorrect measurements by the manufacturer? They say they built what they were told and refuse to refund and replace.

Solution… (other than pulling my hair out, stripping naked, dousing myself in tequila and running down the road cursing the home renovation Gods?) … cut bigger holes in the wall.

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It wasn’t that much bigger. Maybe and inch and a quarter on each side but it meant (what has now become my mantra) more time, more work, more money. Not to mention a tighter fit when it comes to trim.

And after that first window rough opening was enlarged and the slightly larger window fitted and secured?

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An ice storm.

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Which coated everything that stood still.

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Good times.

😩

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31 thoughts on “And we’re back to the window nightmare.”

  4. Oh for the love of god – this is beyond ridiculous. Your contractor has to be as pissed off as you are – yes, he is being paid for all this but the frustration and muck-up after muck-up has got to be fraying his last nerve too. Do you think the other windows will fit – or is that too much to contemplate right now.

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  6. I don’t blame you for going with solution alternative #2. With alternative #1, you might catch your death of cold, leading to consequences too nightmarish to bare. But there is a third alternative to consider: burn the house down, collect the insurance, and start all over again — you’ll probably be able to move into your new house before your current nightmare is fixed, and live happily ever after (except perhaps Lord Dudley, who must be amused to no end by your unending cat-astrophes).

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  7. Holy Hell, literally. Only hell in Maine is an ice storm and windows being removed, ugh. If you post that the Barn Mahal was eaten up by a sink hole, than your rotten start to this year (home improvement wise that is) will definitely take the cake! Sorry girl, hang in there the spring is bound to bring something good your way as far as your house is concerned.

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  14. Okay I’ve considered this for a while and now you, dear friend, shall receive the benefit of my wisdom.
    Here’s how it looks to me: Contractor’s (Documented) measurements don’t match the window, right? Retailer’s (Also documented) measurements don’t match either, right? OK here’s the bit that decides everything: Do the contractor’s and the retailer’s measurements match? If not, I’m renting a U-Haul to bring you some thoughts and prayers. BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUT, if they do, then you get the chance to sharpen your oratory skills. You get to use words like “Lawyer”, “Courtroom” “Settlement” and “I’m gonna get the greasiest, shysteriest, greediest bastard lawyer I can find, and then guess what? I’m going to tell him (Or her) they get to keep every thin dime they can walk out of that courtroom with, just for giving me the pleasure of watching you get your dick slammed in the door.” I think your powers of persuasion would increase greatly if you can arrange a meeting to deliver this friendly advice while you are in the fiery clutches of a hot flash. A little batshit crazy spices things up, you know.
    I thought about how everyone’s favorite Gunnery Sergeant might handle this, with years of leadership experience to draw upon. I also thought about a conversation we had recently where you said that your husband finishes fights sans extraneous bullshit. This figured strongly in my thinking. So, after a lightning cycle through the cogitative psychodramatizing movie making machine, this is what came out: The Gunny (Played by R. Lee Ermey from Full Metal Jacket, a Gunnery Sergeant, and Clint Eastwood from Heartbreak Ridge, also a Gunnery Sergeant, gotta be consistent.) walks through the door. There are several people at the counter, both sides, some talking business, some just talking. Then no one’s talking. Some of the men, played by the pathetic Carolina Panthers, burly construction worker types for the most part, backed up to the walls, looking at the floor while the rest leave quietly then run like they were being chased by some kind of vicious devil dog.
    The two ladies behind the counter, played by Salma Hayek and Charlize Theron, stare for a moment, unaware of their open mouths then, staring all the while, do kind of a wobbly half swoon into their seats. That would be a big ego boost for a lot of guys, but the Gunny’s here on business, not to pick up chicks. Besides, he already knows he’s what my big sister once referred to as a hunka hunka burnin’ jarhead.
    A teenage boy (Billy Mumy Will Robinson, Lost in Space) sweeping the floor, dropped his broom and ducked out through the back door. A minute later a sweaty little man (Jason Alexander) bursts into the room. He sees the guys standing against the wall then looks toward the Gunny, but not well enough. He says “What the Hell do you want?”. For this, he gets a backhand slap that knocks him back three steps. The Gunny says “Try again!” only there’s no intense Eastwood whisper, the voice is all Ermey, only loud.
    Here’s the regrettable part of this tale. I understand Jarhead, when you’re in the Navy it helps. Unfortunately I don’t speak Jarhead and I’m not about to be some schmuck who knows next to nothing trying to talk like a Marine.
    I’m gonna lose my mind if I don’t find out how this ends. I know you can do justice to the language and anyone who reads as many books as you has to know what a nerve shattering climax looks like. I do have a happy ending, though. The two of you are looking contentedly out the window of your impeccably decorated living room. The window is meticulously clean, like the rest of the windows in the house. The sweaty little man gave you the service for free, once a week, forever, if he would just…stop…looking…at…me.
    Help me Rivergirl, you’re my only hope.

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    1. My… you certainly gave that comment some thought. And while I appreciate the Oscar worthy screenplay, the reality was quite different. If you remember how long and hard we fought to remedy those first two faulty windows, waiting months for service reps and endlessly arguing with manufacturers, you’ll remember that our patience had reached its end. We started this project last July. It’s February… we needed closure. Literally and figuratively. So… bigger holes were cut in the wall, windows were fitted and installed…. the end. We will never deal with that store or window company again and will bad mouth their customer service to anyone who cares to listen. And it’s too bad, because the windows themselves are great now that they’re in.
      🥴

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      1. Seriously, I’m glad that mess is out of your home and your life. In the past few years we have had a new roof, a major foundation repair, new front door, new back door and a house full of windows. All this before we get to the $2500 (And counting) plumbing odyssey happening in my basement right now. Believe me, I’m feeling you.
        I slept for about an hour last night, so I had plenty of time to get nice and crazy and write a good (Well, long) post.
        After all this it would seem that something useful might be in order. I offer this: “Hunka hunka burnin’ Jarhead” would make a tender, loving sentiment to inscribe on a Valentine’s day card. Please, make it your own, I’ll never claim it.

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