Ah yes, the new house. I did say it would have its quirks, didn’t I? Well, that sure was an understatement. I’ve moved right into the middle of Quirkville.
This new home of ours is taking a little getting used to. The ‘rustic’ kitchen is distinctly barnlike, except for the bench, which is more minimalist in style. As in, there’s barely any of it. An old chimney in the kitchen expels drafts of freezing musty air. I’m sleeping in the dining room. The shower’s in a cave (makes a change from a cupboard), and what was extravagantly called the third bedroom is a cold draughty room about the size of a large wardrobe. The heating duct in that room produces as much heat as your average birthday candle, and the roof leaks. A lot. Over the last week or so, I’ve spent a goodly amount of time either up a ladder or on my hands and knees (and not in a fun way). I’ve been high on Nifti for days on end.
Last night I was crawling around the house pulling off the covers off the heading ducts and shoving the vacuum as far down the throat of each one as I could. At one stage, I got a nasty shock when thought I’d sucked a dead rat halfway up the nozzle. Fortunately, it was just a dusty, furry piece of cloth. At least, that’s what it may have been once – before it started to atrophy into a corpse-like rat impersonator.
The first night I had the keys, I brought the kids here to show them their new home. It was dark and cold and I couldn’t get the heating to work. The kitchen had a musty smell – either from the chimney or the grease-covered exhaust fan, or both – and the dingy brown wallpaper looked even gloomier than it had in daylight. The bathroom was dirty, and the corners of most rooms were inhabited by roosting daddy-long-legs. We found a cockroach in the kitchen. Lauren’s scream reverberated around the empty house. “Our new pet!” I joked, but inside I was thinking “What have I done?”
That night I dreamt that the house had a rocky, dirty floor with long grass growing all over it. I woke up as I was haggling at a garage sale, trying to buy a lawn mower for $20 so Max could mow the lounge room.
The next day I attacked every room with a vacuum, a long-handled duster, and a collection of bug-busting, dirt-nuking chemicals, while Motown classics blared from my trusty iPod dock. I climbed up the ladder to scrub the greasy vents and blocked off the chimney.
It took me two days to figure out how to light the heating and hot water units. The trick with gas appliances, I now know, is that you should pull the lever over on the mains thingie before you try to light them. Yes, that big, red lever there. I had to hack my way through the dripping wet jungle of a garden to make this discovery. I could have done with a pith helmet and a machete.
When the gas heating sprang into life, I did a victory dance around the horrible kitchen.
The sun came out and shone through the leadlight windows in the lounge room. It’s going to be alright, I told myself.
