If Not A New 'Old' Cottage, Then A New Plan Of Action

    

The front of my house.

     “You're out of your mind!”

     How many times have I heard this? I thought that particular fact had already been established about me. I am out of my mind. I function well in that location. A trip back to reality is not nearly as fun. However, I am juggling mega doses of reality this week, dashed with a bit of fantasy, to make it all palatable.

     The comment above came from a well meaning friend when I gave her the latest details of my business arrangement with my new handyman and how I plan to pay for his work.
     Since I can't move to a cottage, as the universe has pointed out to me recently, I am dancing as fast as I can to see if I can sprinkle my old ranch house with more charm. My attitude adjustment the past few days is one of appreciation. Appreciate where I am, because I am in a wonderful location. Then see if I can spruce up the old place to love it as much as I think I will love another. I am so fickle with houses. I wonder if there is a house that will keep me true or will I always be cursed with being so restless?

     Once I decided to work on my own house, I realized I'd need more than a bit of fairy dust to get things in motion. My finances had been severely tapped with my year and a half as a shop owner. But the answer to finding cash was under my nose, sitting in the driveway. My vintage Corvette was the catalyst to make things happen. It has been pretty much parked under its California Car Cover since I bought it in 2008. The car that took me over the hump of turning sixty, three months after earning my widow crown, had served me well back then, and would bail me out now.

     I'd put as many new batteries in the Corvette as I had tanks of gas. Three. You can't let a car like that sit, which is exactly what I did. I needed my van to haul things, and the Corvette's only track history, was the opening chapter in my book on my first year alone. It was time for this grand car to have a responsible owner who would love it. We'd had our fling.

     In addition to my big dream of sprucing up my ranch house, I had a reoccurring nightmare. The old leak in my basement was back. With a vengeance. I'd ignored it too long. Now I had to face up to dealing with it before it grew into a mildew problem.

     The basement leak was getting worse with each downpour. The area had grown from a small puddle to a huge sweeping mass that came two feet out from the wall and curved around the room. A professional company, that would guarantee their work for life, wanted $10,000 to do the job. I tried not to cry. Their 'lifetime guarantee' seemed like a life sentence to me.

     I decided there must be a better, more creative, and cheaper way, to take care of the leak. I wanted more bang for my buck. I had a bucket list of things I wanted done in the house. A plan of action started to form.

     The key to all my woes and expectations could be summed up in one word. Handyman. I just needed to find a good one. There are no males in my life at the moment; no friends' husbands, no male friends, no boyfriend, and not even a bad date on the horizon who might have a hidden talent. I was on my own.

     Handymen hang out at hardware stores. It seemed a reasonable thought. I trotted down the street to the local hardware store and spilled my guts about the problems at my house.

     “We keep a book of business cards.” The gal at the register reached under the counter and pulled up a thick, worn, spiral notebook. “See if there is anyone in here. Feel free to take as many cards as you like.”

     The book landed with a thud. Within minutes I had a card in my hand. The slogan on it caught my eye and the range of work covered everything I needed.

     “Do you know him?”

     “No. But most of these cards belong to the guys who buy supplies here.”

      I didn't wait to get home. My cell was out by the time I opened my van door, and I was talking to a young man by the time my butt hit the van seat.

     “I do work for the owner there at the hardware store, and rent from a family member of his.”

     There were the credentials I like. A personal connection. Not with me, but with the shop. I could track him down if he did me wrong.

     An appointment to look at the leak in the basement was scheduled for the next day. The universe had sent me the perfect handyman, I knew it. I stopped with that call, and started on my list.

Basement leak

Foyer floor replaced

Bathroom redo

New light fixtures

Picket Fence

Curb appeal for front of house

     It was just the beginning. Desperate times called for desperate measures. I had to stop the leak and I had to stop looking at houses online. My house needed a facelift if I was going to be content. From my files on my computer I printed out all the photos of houses, fences, and rooms I loved best. So many darling cottages, all in rainbow colors. My house would never look like those cottages, no matter what I did. It was a brick ranch. A moment of doubt started to creep back in.

     STOP! I yelled at myself. Attitude adjustment. You will love your ranch house, you will love your ranch house...repeat after me...

     My handyman showed up the next day, exactly as scheduled. He was young, early twenties, and, frankly, quite adorable. His experience started as a kid, working with his family's construction business. He'd moved here to be close to his girlfriend who in college on a scholarship. There was a nice, easy going, competent way about him. I figured we could work well together.

     After he looked at the foundation and took measurements, we headed back towards his truck.

     “What year is that Corvette?” He pointed to the tarped vehicle in my driveway.

     “'79 Stingray.” I felt that flush of excitement come back talking about my muscle car. The car always has that effect on me.

     “Man. I've always wanted one. Can I look?”

     I watched him remove the car cover and a thought took shape in my mind. Dare I say it outloud?

     “It's a beauty!” His hands ran over the car with such intensity I decided to speak up with my crazy thought.

     “Gonna sell her to pay for the work on my house. I have a long list of things I'd like done here, other than the leak. Maybe we could work out a trade...”  I paused and caught my breath.
     The car had saved my life when I thought my life ended with the death of my husband. It kick started the new me. Maybe it could do the same for a tired old ranch house.

     “You're joking, aren't you?” He looked at me in disbelief.

     “Nope!” I smiled and saw his face light up. If the car was going to go, I'd like for it to go where it would be appreciated. If I didn't have to deal with a bunch of buyers kicking tires, I'd be thrilled. Cliche as it sounded, this would be a win-win.

     “What price are you talking here...and I'll give you my lowest hourly charge...” He had a huge grin.

      “Let me get my work list, you take a closer look at the car, and we'll pull a plan together.”

      The universe has wrapped its arms around me again. I can't wait to see how all this goes. Am I falling in love with my ranch house all over? Or am I smitten with change in the air. Perhaps it is not that I want a cottage to move to, but the need to move more in my own life. I’ve been much to sedentary this year. The wind is now sweet with expectations as I wait to see what comes next. I am in the reality I love best, creating and dreaming.

      Yes, I am out of my mind. It is my favorite place to be.