Too long for Facebook Facebook post.
A good day today. Like, the opposite of ennui and angst. Got up at a reasonable hour. Let The Dog Out. At this point she's content to be Out and surveying her realm instead of sitting on the porch, staring at the door. Breakfast and news. Got cleaned up for a morning walk. 40 minutes of an hour walk were spent standing next to a drainage ditch full of brush while New Dog rummaged around in it, hunting groundhogs. She also spent some of that time excavating a groundhog hole--all while I can see an ACTUAL GROUNDHOG chilling and basking in the sun not 75' away, but I can't get her to notice it. Got The Van out, loaded and ready. Managed to get The Dog In because I decided a trip to Lowe's for mulch and then yardwork would be simpler without her. Got it done before...2? Home to The Dog, lunch, and a nap. Then load her up to go back to the house and start cleaning.
It was weird, being in a home you lived in for 4 years, a year later. At first it didn't feel like home. I thought it would, but it didn't. My current home feels like home. But once I got the junk moved out and got to work cleaning, it started to come back to me. Mopping the floors, in particular. Very familiar. I used to mop the floor a lot more often than I do now (which is "never"). And I remembered that as I was doing the old familiar pattern on the kitchen floor. Or mowing the lawn. Thinking about Old Dog, who used to make me throw a ball the whole time I mowed the lawn, because she knew I was working and so she wanted to work too and fetching was the job she was most familiar with. As the years passed, the fetching duration shortened and she was content to supervise the lawn mowing. The last year or so that was it--sit on the stoop and make sure I was OK while I mowed. I miss that dog.
The new Dog is settling in. She's starting to figure out how to ride in the car without being restless. She's doesn't need to constantly check up on me. She's hunting down rodents of all sorts.
So yeah, once the floor was mopped, it was about time for the afternoon patrol. And we got to do it in Old Dog's old neighborhood.
New Dog doesn't mount nearly as organized a patrol. She meanders and loops back. And gets stalled at points. But today she managed to chase groundhogs, squirrels, at least 1 rabbit and even--in spite of her (presumed) Shiba Inu side distaste for water--made an effort to go after a muskrat she picked up the scent of. Then it was back to the old house to shut off ceiling fans and close windows before heading home to eat lasagna, drink beer, and watch the local news and "Jeopardy!" Oh, and on the evening patrol, The Boss called to tell me there was no work tomorrow. So I get another day to work on the house.
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The house isn't in bad shape. Oh, the yard will need a ton of work. And there's a bunch of stuff to buy to get it rent-ready. Necessities like 4' of gutter leaf guard to replace the section that apparently ran off with one of the sink strainers, and some staging items like rugs and towels and "WELCOME" mats. Probably not necessary in this market, but I like to add the little touches that help sell the place. Oh, and paint. Paint.
I learned that you can't store paint in unheated areas in Louisville and be able to use it later and truth be told, a lot of the paint that needs doing is stuff I half-assed because the place rented so much faster than I expected (literally, I posted the ad and by the time I was back from walking my dog I had a renter. He turned out to be a turd, but that's another story). The worst is the ceiling. It's easy to look at a white ceiling and say "it's fine." Until you put a fresh coat of paint on it and see how much better it looks. And there are some plaster problems in a few spots on the ceiling, so I'm probably stuck painting the whole thing. It'll be worth it, but I won't enjoy it--until it's done and I see how good it looks.
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Oh, and on the way back from the walk, one of the neighbors came out and we had a really nice talk and she said how much everyone misses me, so that was bittersweet. Also chatted with the guy who breeds German Shepherds on the way out. Which actually segues nicely back to the next bit:
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My Plan...By the time I was ready to buy my 2nd rental, the market had blown up and there were no nice rentals to be had at any kind of reasonable price. So I found a place that, while it had BEEN a rental--for quite a long time--was a terrible rental--huge lot, too many buildings, etc. Part of an estate being settled, looked OK in photos, but lots of things rental half-assed and while there was plenty of space (and an easy way to do it--my old house was 33% bigger but there's really no way to easily add a 3rd bedroom) for a 3rd bedroom, it was a 2 bedroom.
But yeah, at this point I'd be content to rent this one out too and live in a funky little shack, but I don't know who I'd put in this place that'd work or where I'd put all my crap if I lived in a funky little shack. Hell, I wouldn't mind a 50' gaff-rigged schooner, but then you got maintenance and mooring fees, and nowhere to park your vintage Mustang, motorcycle, and A-Team Van--or your TARDIS for that matter. And the library and the wardrobe and...