Snapshots from Eldredge

The life and writings of TJ Alexian

Tag Archives: home improvement


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The Great Piano Roll

So, Corbie has a new obsession. Old upright pianos.

Oh no, he doesn’t want to learn to play them. He wants to refurbish them. He wants to take one and turn it into something along the lines of this:

Cool idea, right? Try putting it into practice. This week-end, we embarked upon our task: the acquisition of our first upright piano. Finding one was pretty easy, because it turns out, there are a lot of folks with upright pianos out there just dying to give them away for free, if you’ll go and takem them off their hands. Seriously! Check it out on Craigslist if you don’t believe me. These things take up room and are really, really heavy.

Corb, naturally, chose the piano farthest from where we lived, out in West Cranberrybutt, Cape Cod. The guy who had it admitted it was out of tune and didn’t work, which Corb liked because among his other choices were pianos that had recently been tuned and worked perfectly. He doesn’t have the heart to destroy a perfectly working piano. Also, he thought it had the best design overall, with some of those old Roman columns for legs and at the top.

The guy we were getting it from also admitted that the piano had been in his wife’s family since she was a child and she was heartbroken to see it leave. “Not that she knows how to play it,” he said. “She’s gone this afternoon. When she comes back and sees it missing, she’s going to break down and cry.”

We got our first taste of what a bear this was going to be getting it out of his house. Even with the truck pulled all the way up to the front steps, it still took four guys (me, Corb, the owner, and what appeared to be the owner’s gay lover) a bit of effort to get the piano into the hitch Corb had rented. I must admit, this made me a little nervous, because I knew that at Green Victoria, there was no way we were pulling the truck up to our front porch. No, we had a long driveway and then a lovely stone path to contend with, which was picturesque, but going to make life a living hell.

But that was a challenge for another hour. At that time, we simply bolted up the piano and drove back to Eldredge.

“So, any ideas how to do this?” I asked Corb, once we arrived home.

Corb clutched at his blond hair. “I’m thinking, I’m thinking.”

The first part was the easiest. Get it off the hitch and onto the small dolly Corb had purchased to help it roll better. That got us to the edge of the driveway and right next to the picturesque crushed stone walkway. How to move it forward? The dolly was going to get in a whole mess of trouble if we moved it any further.

Believe it or not, I was the one who had the bright idea. Me! I remembered reading about how the ancient Egyptians were able to move heavy stones to create the pyramids, and thought the principal might work in this case. “Why not grab the plankwood we have in the backyard and place them over the stones? That will give the dolly something to roll over.”

Corb was a little skeptical. But it turns out, I was actually right!

I will admit, we had one really rough patch. Rolling uphill and at a curve was a real challenge, and the planks started to break at one point, forcing us to buy a few more. Plus, one of the dolly wheels started to bend back, after the first hour. But by the end of the day, right before the drag show was about to begin, we had the piano right by the front porch. And now we had a new challenge:THREE LITTLE STEPS.

This turned out to be a challenge that was insurmountable for two whole days. Turns out, the two of us are incapable of lifting the heavy piano up the stairs to the front porch. We tried everything: trying to tip it on its side, purchasing ropes and pulleys. We even bought this strap-on thing that looked more like a sexual device than a means of moving the piano. It didn’t work at all. We called some movers, but they wanted at least $200 for what was sure to be a five minute job. That seems ridiculous. FInally, we managed to get our bud Hot Coco to come over with her man friend and help us lift it over those three little steps. The price was only cost the purchase of her Chinese take-out that night.

And there it sits. I am not sure when Corb will get to it next. I am sure it will used as a prop for our annual Halloween party. Maybe we can even put speakers next to it and have it play spooky music. But in any event, the next great refurbishing adventure has begun at Green Victoria. Hopefully, we will survive it!


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Burglar proofed.

So, I’m hanging on the porch of Green Victoria this week-end. I’m sitting on the couch, being lazy, reading “Turn of the Screw” (lovely Memorial Day week-end reading), relaxing. Suddenly I hear a scampering and look up to see THIS…

cat climb

…which turns into THIS…

cat climbed

Hmm. Guess we we don’t need a house alarm any more. All we need is Ping, waiting to pounce…

 


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Planting seeds

Corb and I spent the afternoon working on the yard. So much to do after the long winter…beds to rake through, trees to prune, transformations to undergo. We…or should I say Corb?…have a lot of plans to transform the backyard from “drab to fab”!

On a similar note, the other big thing I did this week-end was to continue edits on Late Night Show. I’m at chapter 21 and have about 120 pages left to go. In a similar way, I think editing this book has been like transforming the yard. Visualizing the world around me, attacking those verb tenses, digging up stale images and planting in their place new, interesting ways to bring the story to life.

Hopefully the book, like the back yard, will go from “drab to fab” by summer. Only in this case, I can’t rely on Corb’s creative brilliance to win the day…this landscape is something that’s entirely of my own creation. And doing it I am! Kami’s sick little world is coming to life before my eyes.


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Gurgle.

Gurgle. Gurgle. Gurgle.

Funny noise. It’s the Sunday after we returned home from Salem, and I’ve been hearing it all day long. What could it be, I wondered? Occasionally.

Although I honestly didn’t think to much about it that often. It was a beautiful day and the sun was out and the weather FINALLY starting to heat up. St. Frankie was actually able to be seen and I was actually thinking about taking some of the trash bags that had been hidden in our basement for a few weeks. Ever since our last big party, I’m embarrassed to say. I was also thinking about maybe finally cleaning out the disgusting kitty litter boxes that have been festering in the cellar for god knows how long.

After I finished cleaning the kitchen, I headed to the cellar stairs to take care of my next chores for the day. Happily whistling a little tune, I turned the corner, turned on the lights downstairs, and that’s when I encountered THIS:

Oh shit. So that’s what that gurgling noise was.

“CORB!!!!”

###

Actually, that photo was taken hours later. The water was four times that height when I discovered the flooding. The kitty litter boxes were floating in the water like little gondolas and most of the boxes were sitting on the ground. Soaking.

Frantically, Corb and I waded through the water, trying to figure out where the water leak was coming from. When we reached the far end of the basement, we finally discovered the source: the sump pump was spewing out water at an alarming rate. Thinking fast, Corb unplugged the pump. The spewing stopped.

We raced to the local hardware department and purchased a back-up sump pump. Hooked it up and started draining the moat right away. Later that night, the basement was finally dry-ish again and we were able to tromp through the basement. The floor was digusting. A bag of kitty litter had ripped open and half of the floor was covered in a sticky, muddy film.

Still, we had no idea why the sump pump had mis-fired the way it had. All we knew was that every time we turned it on, water started pouring out from a pipe about three feet above the hole. So, we decided to keep the back-up running and call a plumber in the morning.

That night, I woke up around four. Something felt wrong to me. I had been thinking about the sump pump all night long.

I went downstairs and listened.

I didn’t hear anything. That wasn’t good. I ran to the cellar. Sure enough, the hose to the back-up sump pump had disconnected during the night. The cellar was a swamp again. Quickly, I reconnected the hose and tried to go back to sleep. But first, I called Roto Rooter and made an appointment for the morning.

Corb didn’t even know what had happened.

Around noon, the plumber came by. Turns out, it appears that the PVC piping connected to the sump pump had frozen, causing a back-up. As a result, a cap had burst. All the guy had to do was seal and replace the cap, an item that only cost about ten dollars. We could have done it ourselves, if we had known what the hell we were doing.

A simply solution to a big pain-in-the-ass problem. The only problem now: cleaning up the mess that had been left behind.


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Diary of a Rogue Wasp Warrior

wasp

You can’t really see it, but it’s there. Second window to the right, in the upper left hand corner.

We noticed it about a week ago. It was about the size of a baby’s fist at the time. A wasp’s nest, attached to the outside of one of our front windows. Since then, it’s grown. Now it’s about the size of a baseball.

Shudder. Wasps. How I hate them! But then, I hate anything with a stinger (unless it has vodka in it. God bless you, Elaine Stritch). And Corb, he not only hates them, but he’s deathly allergic to them. Turns out he stepped on a bee’s nest not once but twice when he was a kid and his doctor has repeatedly warned him that if he gets stung again, he could go into anaphylactic shock. Or at least, that’s what I’ve been told.

That meant dealing with the wasp’s nest was up to me.

Not that Corb hasn’t given me helpful suggestions. Case in point: he wants me to dress up in a giant bee costume. “Then go over to the hive and pretend to be a friend. Tell them they have to see the really cool beehive in the backyard. Then when they are out, whack the hive down with a baseball bat! They won’t know what to do.”

Thanks, Corb. wasp 2

Surprisingly, it actually wasn’t the worst piece of advice we received. It’s kind of like the deer infestation thing, where people told us to sprinkle all sorts of crazy stuff around the plants, like human hair and dead deer blood, to keep Bambi away.

Jim, who is the boyfriend of Corb’s mom, was the worst. I was surprised, because he is a bit of an expert on everything. He’s about ninety years old, loves to travel. Will eat just about anything. I honestly thought he’d be able to help with this. But, no. His “guidance”: “Take a putty knife, see, and scrape the nest off quickly. Then make sure you have a big paper bag that it can fall into. Close the bag once the nest is in, really quickly. And then, you have to get rid of the bag, so either throw it in the woods or set it on fire.”

That’s the last time I listen to a world traveler who will eat just about anything. Let’s go over things I will absolutely never be doing with a live wasp nest, shall we?

  • First, moving close to it armed only with a putty knife.
  • Then, pissing off a bunch of wasps by detaching their home.
  • Next, dumping said home into a paper bag and trying to close it as they rise up, more than a little angry at me. Can you imagine me trying to crinkle that damn thing shut?
  • Then, sprinting into the woods to set the bag on fire. Screaming all the way.

I swear I’d burn the fucking forest down. And, I’m too much of a wimp. I cringe when my avatar gets stung by a bee in Animal Crossing. Bottom line: I’m not sure what Bizzarro universe this plan of attack is ever going to happen in.

“Just get an exterminator,” was Corb’s other suggestion. But no, I don’t see the need for that. This is something we should be able to handle on our own. We are big boys, now. We don’t need to throw money at everything.

So, it’s up to me. Sigh. I spent the whole day thinking about how to kill the bastards. What I needed to do. I carefully considered all the possible pitfalls. Ted against the wasps. Major stingage. Hundreds of insane insects converging down upon me, or finding a way into the kitchen, where they would pull an occupy Wall Street. Missing limbs. Carnage.

In the middle of a movie last night, I made a sudden whimpering noise.

“Are you scared?” Theo asked.

“No,” I replied. “Just thinking about the wasps.” He looked away.

And then, at ten at night, under cover of darkness, when all the wasps were sound asleep and dreaming of world domination. I sprang into action. I had Corb stand in the kitchen with a lantern, placed right near the wasp nest. Then I ran outside with Theo. Moved a few dozen feet away from the nest, can of wasp poison in hand. Then, I sprayed like crazy. Emptied out the whole bottle. And then, I ran like hell.

End result: the wasp nest is quiet today. I spy a few dead wasps on the bottom of the window sill. Mission accomplished?

Only time will tell.


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From drab to fab (Part Two)

drab one

With a week’s vacation ahead of us and the power washing and weeding out of the way, Corb was determined to finish up the patio project with the time we had. His fertile little brain was awash with ideas: from citronella candles to keep the bugs away made out of wine bottles, to a chiminea that can keep us warm (and keep the bug away) on cold fall evenings, to a decent deck set that could add a little color to the space.

And he was frugal, too. The umbrella we secured for free, because his mom had purchased one she didn’t like and dumped it on us about a month ago. We exchanged it and the manager actually allowed us to buy a larger model, so we ended up with a better deal. The chiminea was found on Craigslist for $45, normally a $300 buy. Okay, it kind of looks like a big fiery penis pot, but I think that adds to the charm…although it annoys Corb to no end whenever I refer to it as a “big fiery penis pot.”

The tables and chairs were the biggest pains in the butt. We picked them up at Lowe’s for $500, but at the first store we went, in Attleboro, it took us forever to get someone’s attention. When we did, the lady informed us that they were out of stock and we should buy them off their web site. Didn’t offer to help, just said to go home and order. Wouldn’t she want to help us order and make a sale for the store? Apparently not.

So, we went online that night and ordered. The site said they had one available in Stoughton and that delivery would be free. We purchased it, but the next day we received a call from the store. Turns out only the chairs were available, but they were willing to give us the display model if we wanted to drive down and pick it up, fully assembled. Only problem: we don’t have a truck.

After a bit of bitching and moaning, they were nice and told us we could drive down and use the Hertz truck offered at the store. So, we made the 25 mile hike to Lowe’s at Stoughton to do that. When we arrived there, the employees were really nice (even let us bring Kyra into the store), but the process to rent a truck was awful.

It’s all automated. It sounds simple and modern and elegant: you stand at a kiosk and speak with a dispatcher by webcam and that person rents you the truck. In reality? We waited thirty minutes to speak to a lady who looked as if she was half asleep most of the time. It took her half an hour to put the order through. Meanwhile, we have two guys holding our lawn stuff waiting around next to us. Then, after we get the truck? Corb goes to the truck, tries to start it up, and is told “DENIED.”

Why? Half an hour goes by for us to figure that out. Turns out the store truck is not hooked up to the Hertz satellite, for some reason. We are told we have two options: drive to pick up another truck at another store or cancel the request.

Well, we were a little upset. What had started as a somewhat nice gesture had turned out to be a total waste of three hours.

The manager of the store did come through. Knocked off $50 and promised us the furniture would be delivered the next day. Which it did, in the afternoon. So, by Monday at three, we were hanging out on our patio. Although there are a few more finishing touches to be completed, I think it all looks pretty darn terrific, don’t you think?