Category Archives: House maintenance

Water, water everywhere

Another warm Sunday spent periodically squeegeeing the basement. I think I’ve finally isolated the problem, though. After researching the common indicators of basement problems, I’ve tested the walls and window wells to verify that they are indeed dry, and the problem appears to be on the north wall, where the wall meets the floor. There, hydrostatic pressure is pushing water from the saturated ground through tiny cracks I can’t see – cracks that, from my research, I’ve found are relatively common in the joint between wall and floor – explaining why there’s no dampness on the walls.

Thoughts of expensive sub-pumps and foundation excavations terrify me. But before I venture down that route, I’m going to try a couple less invasive, cheaper methods.

Since it was warmer today (over 50 degrees!), the melting snow coupled with the rain shower further saturated the ground, forcing more water into the basement. I’ve noticed the past couple weeks that warmer days, I have water as the snow melts, but bitterly cold days, the ground is frozen nice and solid. I ventured out into the yard to the north side of the house, where the problem is. There’s a downspout coming from the roof and gutter, shoved into the ground. It’s only about eighteen inches from the house, and the ground surrounding the spout was rock-hard, solid ice, with puddles all around. My theory is that this spout is too close to the foundation. So once the ground thaws a bit more (and I deal with more mild flooding), I’m going to excavate the downspout and move it another 4-5 feet from the house. Hopefully, this, coupled with a bit of fresh sealant, will solve the problem. If it only floods a couple times a year – during ultra-heavy freak rains (like the 5 inches in 24 hours last August) and once during the spring thaw, I can deal. It’s the nightly post-work cleanup that’s grating on me. Fortunately, if I stay on top of it, it doesn’t venture much beyond the wall.

On the bright side, the constant water near the furnace seems to have helped humidify the house just a bit. Lemonade – made with dirty gray water.

There’s a certain slant of light…

I’ve worked from home three days in the last week, nursing my ankle by avoiding the treacherous hill climb. It’s been nice working from home. I’ve burned through a ton of work that requires more quiet concentration than the office can provide, and the extra 90 minutes of sleep has been divine.

Even better, though, is the rare chance to enjoy my house in the sunshine. After such a dreary winter (fourth cloudiest on record, with only 31% of the possible sunshine), it’s been cheering – and revealing – to sit in the house without needing to turn lights on. My home office is particularly sunny, especially with the sun reflecting off the fresh snow. And it’s fun watching Collette migrate from sun spot to sun spot – top of the stairs in the morning, office floor mid-day and then the office chair in the afternoon.

On the flip side, the sunlight revealed gobs of ceiling cobwebs and the extent of the dusty neglect plaguing my bookcases.

Perhaps that’s what Emily Dickinson meant when she said the slant of light on winter afternoons “oppresses, like the weight/Of cathedral tunes.” Maybe she was a lazy housekeeper, too. As a spinster (did she own her home?), did she stay on top of her dusting?

Ms. Fix-It? Why not?

Is it really so hard to comprehend women who can do their own repairs? I can wield a caulk gun like one of the boys with no real trouble, and so can many of my female friends. Most of them are very involved in the care of their homes, beyond the traditional kitchen and cleaning roles. Among my friends, at least, this still holds true even when they’re married or otherwise paired off: women can fix things and do many of the repairs themselves.

The Wall Street Journal’s Kay Hymowitz noticed this trend in the guise of new products touting themselves as more female-friendly, from pink tool belts to pink hack-saws. As she explains:

It’s not hard to see what’s driving the fad: Women are increasingly home alone and emboldened. Perhaps the largest group eager to seize the pink hammer is single young women. Many of today’s young women are marrying well into their 20s; an increasing number are waiting until their 30s. But they often aren’t waiting for that gold band before they commit to a house or condo. The National Association of Realtors reports that in 2006 single women made up 22% of the U.S. real-estate market; the median age for first-time single female buyers was 32. It helps that having grown up with computers, cellphones and iPods, this you-go-girl! generation doesn’t look at small machinery the way Barbie looked at math. These women are not only gung-ho about buying a home on their own dime; they’re ready to lay the tile and patch the drywall too.

Well, yes, that’s true. But we don’t need special pink tools to do it. When I moved into my first apartment, my mom gave me a small toolbox filled with the basics – a couple screwdrivers, a hammer to hang pictures, basic pliers. Around each one, she had tied a pink ribbon, and the bottom of my little red toolbox was lined in pink satin. It was very cute.

Since then, most of those original tools have been replaced by sturdier versions to meet their big-girl roles. The ribbons fell off pretty quickly, and the little red box has been replaced by Big Red as new needs have merited things I would have never thought of back in that dark little studio, like an outlet tester.

But I must say, I do still use that little hammer, since its lighter weight is easier to heft, especially when up on a ladder. So perhaps there’s a market for these girly tools after all.

What’s that noise?

My last apartment was in the attic of an 1890s Victorian house. When the wind blew, the house shook and rocked back and forth. It creaked and groaned as it settled or when big trucks drove by. But it never really bothered me.

Now my cat makes the dining room floor creak. New hairline cracks appear occasionally – or were they always there and I just never noticed? Has that door always been slightly crooked?

Yes, yes, of course I had a home inspector give the place a good once-over before I bought. The house got a clean bill of health with only a couple very minor problems that are well par for the course for a home built in the 1920s. But now that it’s my house and I’m responsible for anything that might go wrong – and its resale value – the little things worry me. Is that little crack indicative of a much bigger problem? Is it warning of structural failure? Will it cost thousands to fix?

Or is it truly nothing?

I think growing up in a relatively new house – built in the 70s – is partially responsible for this neurosis. The house hadn’t had decades to settle and show its age. With routine maintenance, nothing ever really broke. Sure, we had a new roof put on when I was in high school and I remember having the electrical upgraded, but everything else was merely cosmetic and entailed replacing the ugly harvest gold appliances and fixtures.

Even though I worry about the age and health of my old house, I do love it. I looked at dozens of houses online and in person during my hunt, and the search reaffirmed my love for the older house, with charming woodwork and built-in cabinetry. Plus, I’m not in a neighborhood filled with identical beige cookie cutter houses. On one side, there’s an 1860s yellow house with purple and green trim. My wonderful neighbors on the other side live in a mint green house built around 1900.

But still, when it’s late and the house is quiet, save for the ticking of the clock, I wonder if that crack on the living room ceiling has always been there.