Part B moments and waterproofing
This last tussle between me and my mother hit Part B today when she called me as I was driving home from Izzie’s gymnastics class. She asked if I had heard from the insurance adjuster and at that point I had not so I told her I’d call them when I got home and then call her back.
Not so shockingly I was told by the friendly, but not entirely helpful, Elizabeth that our problems would not be covered by insurance. I asked her what she thought might be the problem and where she suggested we go from here but she wasn’t a great deal of help. In her somewhat feeble attempts at explaining groundwater runoff and foundation height bla bla bla <insert my drifting off, daydreaming about Mike Rowe feeding me things by hand> I came to the conclusion that my questions would be better directed toward a waterproofing specialist. All I wanted her to tell me is what sort of professional I should next contact but that seemed not to stick, not unlike linty double-sided sticky tape.
Directly afterward I called my mom to share the news and she told me that she knew because at some point in the day she received a registered letter from the adjuster/insurance company (pussies!) outlining everything that they don’t cover. Thanks. Now I know why the lovely Elizabeth never bothered to call me like she said she would on Monday. Bitch left me hangin’! I sat quietly and listened to my mother go on about how sad it is that it’s not covered after all the premiums she’s paid over the years. While not entirely unsympathetic (insurance really is a ripoff in the end), I gently reminded her that in our area most homes are aging between 50-60 years-old and combining that with the problems created by the pressure of clay pushing down on the foundation walls, insurance was surely not going to cover something that they’d have to eventually pay out to just about any homeowner in our immediate area. It’s just that time in the lifespan of these post-war homes when the clay soil combined with normal foundation wear and tear via that evil element water is starting to affect many in our area. C’est lavie I guess. There’s something to be said for renting after all.
I called a local company for an estimate and they will be meeting me at my mom’s (our new place? I still don’t know how to refer to it) to produce a figure that’s most likely going to result in the air being filled with the putrid smell of methane and salty tears. I realize it has to be done, though. Plus, if we want a dry, healthy basement where we can actually live without major damage to our lungs and belongings, this has to happen.
Sigh.
Oh, and we also have to do something about the kitchen. You remember the kitchen, no? You know, the 50 year-old, barely working, electric Thermador cooktop (very retro in stainless steel but basically also a hunk of steel at this point) with the matching 24″ early Easy Bake oven? Yes, that’s it. Oh, and that little problem of the lack of a dishwasher? Yeah. But we have a fridge! Actually, we have three if you count the one downstairs and the one we’ll be moving in until we find someone to buy it. Cold storage y’all!
Tomorrow I’ll have more information and we’ll see if I’ll need another med adjustment. BWAH!
One very cute and nice thing happened today. When I was at the gym the woman in the office, Wendy, mentioned that she thought Iain would do fine in a recreational class versus the special needs class he’s in right now. Izzie’s coach, who has also coached special needs, agreed wholeheartedly so we’re considering moving him up to see how much he likes it. We can always switch him back if he doesn’t. He wouldn’t be with the all-boys class since that’s more advanced than he’d be capable of but I doubt he’ll be bothered being the only boy in a class full of girls a little younger than him.
When we told him about what Wendy and the coach said about moving him up and asked him if he’d like to try that, his blue eyes lit up and his face filled with a smile from ear to ear. He was so thrilled that someone thought he could be in a higher-level class. I’m sure he sees his sisters progressing and while he hasn’t said anything and enjoys his special-needs class a lot (he has so many friends he loves to be around), it probably feels good to be told that someone thinks you’re good enough at something to move up a level. Just the look on his face made my year.
We’ll give it a shot and if he doesn’t like it then he can go back to his old class with our blessing. It makes no difference to me but if he gets something out of the new class, more power to him. I kind of wish (and maybe I can swing it) that he could do both classes. I really love the special needs group and the parents have formed a bond that I enjoy. We’ll see how it goes.
Wendy also mentioned that they were thinking about starting a program that would put together a special needs gymnastics team that would go and compete in the Special Olympics and I think that’s a really cool idea. That is something I’d really be interested in helping out with if I could. I won’t be making any commitments until this move is done and I start getting the business end of my life back in some sort of order with even a hint of a plan but it would be a great experience for Iain and a good way for me to spread word of my services in the special needs community.
Lots to think about. I need an assistant. Christie, are you up for volunteering as my assistant? Some day I could even pay you!
