That’s what I said to Tracy this morning, as we were getting out of bed and talking about disentangling our insurance woes. My mom had a dressing table—that’s what we called it, but really it was a nook off the bedroom of the house where I grew up, between my parents’ walk-in closet and the master bathroom.
My dad built the house and put in tons of details that would work for us, like this dressing table. It was a vanity counter but low so that my five-foot mom could sit at a stool and comfortably “put her face on” each day.
I mentioned this to Tracy (not an especially short person) while I was standing in our bathroom upstairs with the door closed just so there would be room to stand. Even I have to sit on the toilet sideways because there’s no room for my knees when I’m sitting straight ahead. We’re not gonna touch that bathroom, at least not yet. We might not touch the rest of the house. Can you believe that’s still up in the air?
We have three insurance woes right now. 1) The truck’s hail damage, slightly tricky maybe because of the insurance claim on the trailer from that other hail storm, remember that one? Maybe unrelated, actually, I don’t know.
For the second time in my life I’m leaving the details of complex life crap to someone more capable. The first time was when we handed over the trailer to insurance. I was oh-so-relieved to be rid of it, and now I’m feeling nostalgic. That’s not the point, here, though.
The second insurance woe is the house claim from this recent hail, seeing as how our crappy current insurance policy might actually cover a new roof plus siding for half of the house, plus window wraps (I’m learning this stuff) yadda yadda. It’s also complicated, though.
That’s not what this post is about. This post is about my mom putting her face on every morning.
The third insurance woe (ain’t this exciting stuff here!) has to do with getting a policy add-on for the renovation, which I mentioned in my previous post (and deleted because it was too depressing) which we can’t actually get. So, again, the renovation is on hold thanks to an insurance Catch-22.
What is working with our house right now is a giant shed we’re having built in the back yard by a guy and his young son. The son looks 15 to me, and maybe he is.
They arrive at 9 am and work so hard all day until they drive away at 5 on the dot. I hear things like, “You’ve got to be building the shed in your mind the entire time” as they’re unloading materials. The son seems to be doing exactly what the dad is, but on the other side of the shed, without any guidance or complaint, and all dang day long.
It’s a joy to witness, although Tracy has had to stop me from going out there with two plates of fresh bread pudding because they are so freaking focused we can tell they don’t want to stop. I even put raisins and chocolate chips in, but Tracy says no. My dad probably wouldn’t have wanted to stop work for bread pudding either, and he died. See? Bread pudding breaks are probably good for you.
My dad loved being a builder, as far as I know. He built one house a year, hiring an architect to do some of the work (he had a building degree but not an architectural degree). His superintendent was a young man who helped with all the subcontractors, but my dad was on the job site every single second it was open, up on the roof or behind the wheel of a front-end loader or whatever, he was doing the work.
He loved his three brunette angles [sic] as he called us, but I bet he would have loved if I’d been a boy whom he’d have felt comfortable passing on his building business to. As it was, I did ride horses, which was his idea.
So, I’m not getting a dressing table, which is a good thing because I’m not big on putting on my face. Heck, I’m still getting used to taking a shower more often than once every ten days. I’m just glad I don’t have to ride my bike to the shower house, seeing as how my bath towel still has rubber marks on it from the time it got tangled between my basket and my tire and I almost bit the dust somewhere near Galveston.
But, I will have a shed for my bike, and I’ll have it soon! I just might not have the rest of the house to go with it. Stay tuned on that one.
Dealing with insurance companies can be mind numbing and ridiculously aggravating at the same time. My fingers are crossed for you on all three scenarios but I have to ask… who’s requiring the renovation insurance? The contractor? Because it seems to me you would just insure the house as is and then reassess value after the reno.
Love your old photos. And damned if you aren’t the spitting image of your mom.
❤️
I am so the spitting image of my mom that some pictures of her I would swear are myself.
Yes, the contractor is requiring the insurance. Some contractors provide it, but ours does not, maybe in an effort to make their sticker shock less. It’s kinda frustrating that after all the hassle to get the contract, now we have to go to more hassle to get the insurance. Thanks to tarrifs, the prices on our goods for the renovation will rise, and then we’ll need another contract. 🤯
Building materials are insanely priced right now. I get sticker shock every time I check something.
Oh, yes. And that’s a lovely shed!
👍
It’s lacking its windows, which are coming tomorrow, and then we’ll paint it and complete our fence around it. And then one thing will be done.