The Rental

I guess we can now officially refer to our condo in Everett, where we lived for the last six years, as “The Rental.” It will certainly take a lot of adjustment to get used to that idea, on a number of levels. The place still feels like I belong there, as I spent a lot of the last year making quite a number of improvements.

It also competes for my dwindling “free time,” as there are a few details that need completion for the transition.

About five years ago, blinded by bright sunlight, I walked through the patio screen door, ruining it completely. Now that we have a tenant renting that room, I really have to fix it.

I bought a replacement at Home Depot, which they claimed to be adjustable from 77 1/2″ to 80″. The patio door is 80″ tall, and the screen turned out to be a full 1/2″ short of the advertised 80″ height.  Back to Home Depot for a return and refund.

Over to Lowe’s, who stock the older brand that Home Depot no longer carries. We brought the new screen to the patio, cut open the packaging, and [in the voice of Gomer Pyle:] Surprise, surprise, surprise! The screen was punctured and torn, the rollers were abraded from being rolled on concrete, and the metal frame had bash marks and deformation. Saddle up and trot back to Lowe’s to get our money back and another door.

We spent more time driving back and forth than we did installing the screen, but by 2130 hours, the third screen was finally snapped into place and working perfectly. (Why didn’t I do this five years ago?)

When we bought the Everett condo, we never imagined renting it piecemeal, so we did not pay the builder to run CATV to all of the bedrooms. Today, I had that pleasure. At least it was warm and sunny – for the first time this month, I think.

Fortunately, I ran about two million miles of phone jack wire all over Western New York homes as a phone company field tech[1], so wrapping our condo in coaxial cable was a snoozefest.

At least they now make it with a cutesy white jacket, so it is not as breathtakingly ugly.

Another day crammed with completed items I can scratch off the list, and a familiar feeling of exhaustion and satisfaction in accomplishment.  Time for a lemon drop!