9 Things We’re Not Fixing When We Move Out Of This House
We’ve packed up our memories, but we’re leaving a few behind.
An official home inspection is the last big hurdle we must clear before selling this house and turning our attention to the new one we’re building in the country. After nearly 22 years of living, working, and creating a life in the suburbs, my husband, Mark, and I have spent the last six months systematically undoing all physical evidence of it.
I’m not sad to leave this place where we raised and launched our kids despite everyone I know telling me I should be. I plan to take my memories with me and enjoy them in the solitude of nine wooded acres.
But we’re not there yet. The inspection is looming, and we’re focused on making the house look like Mark and I and our 6 animals don’t actually live here — and that our two 20-something sons didn’t imprint themselves onto every floorboard and wall.
I’m in charge of sorting and discarding. I scour cupboards, closets, and crevices, scrutinizing the detritus of our lives. Several nights a week, I load up the Subaru and make trips to the used bookstore, Goodwill, and the various recycling facilities that accept everything that has powered, painted, and illuminated our lives for two decades. Each emptied carload moves me one step closer to our new life.
Meanwhile, Mark fixes things. Every time I look up, he’s entering or leaving the room with a spackle gun, paintbrush, or screwdriver in one hand and a ladder in the other. He trolls the halls, covering up scars he feels we cannot leave behind.
The house is looking better than it has since we moved in, and yet I worry about all the things the inspector could include in his report.
1. Unfinished closet with missing door, middle bedroom.
We both work in marketing, so when the economy tanked in 2008, we felt lucky that only one of us was laid off. Mark struck out on his own rather than face the anemic job market. We had little kids and limited space, so Mark built a desk into the closet of our tiny extra bedroom and started his own business, which helped us through that dark time.
2. Dented walls, TV room and hallways.
It’s not that I didn’t have a rule against kicking soccer balls in the house, but at some point, I had to choose between trying to make sure the house looked great for all the entertaining we never actually did, and my sanity.
3. Partially dead ash tree, front yard.
When emerald ash borers deforested the suburban Midwest in the early aughts, Mark fought back. Our ash was the boys’ secret hideout. They hung swings and rigged a zipline. Mark magically kept that tree alive for years. When the boys grew up, he turned to other projects. The tree still stands on its own, but not for much longer.
4. Sticky door, back bedroom.
When the door to your teenage son’s room sticks so loud that you can hear it open and close from the other end of the hall, you count yourself grateful that, if nothing else, you know when he comes and goes.
5. Loose spindle, staircase.
On what was likely our final vacation as a family of four, we visited Antelope Canyon, which I learned was carved by eons of rushing water. That’s when I understood how years of the boys boomeranging down our stairs — late for school, practice, friends, dates — reshaped the railing to a point that even using a nail gun to re-attach a missing spindle wasn’t going to be enough.
6. Water slow to heat, upstairs bathrooms.
Instead of standing outside the shower in my towel each morning, freezing until the water is warm enough to get in, I turn it on and (briefly!) sneak back to bed. There are always two or three cats and dogs snuggled into the blankets, waiting for me, which is maybe why I never thought to call the plumber.
7. Jammed window, kitchen.
I love my time in the kitchen, so when we renovated it 10 years ago, I chose an extra-large sill for the window over the sink to display tiny treasures. A pinch bowl of beach pebbles. A penguin bobblehead from my grandmother’s kitchen. A loved-but-broken pin. It’s so over-crowded with gems, that it I couldn’t reach the window to open it, even if it worked.
8. Water rings, living room window seat.
I married into an extensive, window-hogging succulent collection, the heart of which is a jade plant 9-year-old Mark got on a field trip. For years now, the stately jade — and its many offspring — have occupied our front window seat. While we admire and dote on these plants, we forgot to protect the wood they sit on.
9. Bird’s nest, garage.
Mark went to close the garage door one day and found a robin who wouldn’t leave. He spotted her nest on top of the motor for the garage door opener, full of eggs. He named her Mrs. Farnsworth. The door closes automatically at 11pm each night, and we open it first thing in the morning so she can go out and get food. If we have to list Mrs. Farnsworth as a sublease on the house we will. But we’ll happily take her to the woods with us if she’d like.
Karen Scholl is a writer and recovering soccer mom living the dream in a flyover state. Her humor book Surviving Soccer: A Chill Parent’s Guide to Carpools, Calendars, Coaches, Clubs, and Corner Kicks is forthcoming from Triumph Books.
