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My still bored by retirement husband was back in the underground den of detritus yesterday stacking crap on his newly constructed shelves.
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It shouldn’t surprise you to learn they didn’t take long to fill.
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We now have slightly more organized floor to ceiling crap. Among the treasure?
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Mildew covered high tech.
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An ancient rusted fire extinguisher.
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And a box of money… which if I had known was down there, I would have cashed in years ago..
🤣
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Since we’ve established my husband doesn’t want me to lend a hand in the basement, alternative helpmates must be employed.
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Meet the Dead Man.. otherwise known as my husband’s personal assistant. Since my spouse can’t lift, position and hold a piece of plywood over his head while screwing it into the floor joists, he built himself a friend. One who doesn’t offer advice or disagree with him like I do.
And speaking of holding things in place….
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When the old insulation is ripped and starts to sag?
Grab a broom.
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And balance that broom on a box, which is balanced on a few old books, which are top of another box which is on a table not meant to support that much weight.
Good times.
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Props to my husband for not only sticking with his horrible basement project but becoming totally obsessed by it. Clearing, cleaning and organizing ( not really, but he’s trying ) 40 years worth of junk is not for the faint hearted. Or the asthmatic… the dust and cobwebs are epic.
When last I reported, shelves were being built on the back right wall and corners were being turned.
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So now that ⬆️…
Looks like this ⬇️ …
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Because every time he carves out a small area to work…
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Thousands of pounds of junk stuff must be moved.
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Anyone need a tv antenna or an old bottle of Clorox? It’s still half full.
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Four vintage wooden crates were unearthed… but none of them were alcohol related for my vinyl collection damn it.
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This is a serious amount of work. And while I try to go down and help, more often than not the husband gets aggravated with me and tells me to get lost.
If 39 years of marriage has taught us anything, it’s that we don’t work well together. I’m a very organized person ….. I plan, I make lists, I gather needed tools and supplies, I have everything I need within reach. He wings it… no plan, always searching for tools and has to run to the store every other day for more supplies. Basically, we drive each other crazy and end up doing our projects by ourselves. Harder, yes. But it keeps us out of divorce court.
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It’s a good thing I don’t use that freezer or second refrigerator anymore.
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Plywood and insulation are showing up at our house on a daily basis.
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Have you priced plywood and insulation lately? It’s enough to make Bob Villa hang up his hammer.
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But the husband is still determined to install a ceiling and insulate a room that has no heat because he’s bored in retirement.
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I can see no reason for this project.
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Nor any rhyme to his framing technique. What the…. what?
But he’s downstairs all day, every day covering everything in sawdust and making a racket and a mess in the one section of basement that was previously neat and organized. (Read – mine.)
While the rest of the cellar (read – his) still looks like this:
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It’s all about priorities.
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(And I sincerely hope it keeps raining today because that’s probably the only way I’m going to be able to take a shower.)
I woke up this morning, slowly and creaking because of my knee. The husband, who’s been underfoot since March … who hardly ever has to visit a client since working from home… left at 7:00am to visit a client.
And that’s when the proverbial waste product collided with the rotating blades.
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I heard a noise.
And since I’m an anal retentive woman, every noise must be investigated. I tracked the noise to our so filled with crap I never go down there anymore cellar. Stairs are not my friend right now, but I hobbled down in pain and discovered it was the water pump.
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(That’s the little blue doohickey to the right for the plumbing challenged among us.)
The water pump was running. For no reason. Cycling on and off every 15 seconds. This is not what you want a water pump to do. So I climbed back upstairs, slowly and with more than a few sound effects, to make sure nothing was turned on, running or leaking. Nothing was. I hobbled outside in the rain to make sure the outdoor faucet wasn’t left on. It wasn’t. Reaching the end of my diagnostic skills, I called our plumber.
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No. That is definitely not me.
Miracle of all miracles he answered the phone and walked me through a few steps to check the problem. The pump is only 5 years old, the heater a mere 3. Nothing seemed to be wrong inside but when he had me go outside and check the well…
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And I looked down inside..
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The cap to our well was crooked and water was positively bubbling out of it. (picture taken later, sorry… no bubbles) ((The bag of sand was my husband’s answer to the well house blowing over in high wind. He might come to regret this quick fix, please stay tuned.))
When I explained what I saw, the plumber told me to run back down to the water pump (which didn’t happen because, ya know… torn meniscus) and shut power off to the water pump, water heater and recirculator. (another waste of money gadget the husband had to have which doesn’t make a bit of difference).
So I shut power off to everything because he thinks one of our pipes has cracked or broken.
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Yeah. Big time. He doesn’t think it’s a pipe in the house, but rather one leading to the house… and that can’t be good.
Thankfully he’s coming this afternoon… so if you’re a person who prays? Please pray to the god of plumbing for a swift and easy fix for your dear friend River. And rest assured if there are any photos worth posting?
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I will.
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Yes, he tried… and I’m going to give him points for that.
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The other day during the miraculous (and possibly orchestrated by aliens) garage clean out…. the husband tried to sell some tires.
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No, he didn’t put a price on the sign.
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And bless his heart, the pile got bigger as the day wore on because he kept finding more tires.
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He even went out and artfully arranged all the mismatched, unwanted, never fit any vehicle we owned, tires.
But alas, at the end of the day….
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They ended up in our cellar… where they’ll probably die a slow death because no one else wants our unwanted tires either.
But damn it, he tried.
And I appreciate the effort.
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River's world..... 