The Foundation Repairs and Other Home Decisions

Last week was a whirlwind of activity. We took in a new foster kiddo, which is not the story du jour but certainly merits its own post. We also moved most of the furniture out of the house and into the garage/kitchen so that the foundation repairmen could enter our house, drill through our floor, and pump a bunch of plastic foam under it. After all that work, we feasted on Chinese food and slept on mattresses on the floor, dreaming of a level floor and engineered hardwood.

Alas. ‘Twas not to be.

The foundation repairmen certainly came. They drilled through our floor and pumped in a foamy substance that hardened and expanded. They made such a racket that all my animals were in quite the state of distress. In fact, Trouble (an aptly named cat) was so beside himself with anxiety that he escaped his confinement and was hiding under the bunk beds where my kiddo found him in a state of panic. I tried to reconfine him, and he destroyed my pricey Arc’teryx jacket by shredding a section with his back claws. Apparently, when I told the workmen that I’d be coming out with a cat to put him back away, they took that to me drill, baby, drill just before I had him safely ensconced.


The girls and I fled to a nearby coffee shop where we feasted on expensive treats and $5 smoothies (who pays $5 for a small smoothie? Apparently, I do… especially after telling the girls they could get something to drink). I tried to get some work done, but before I knew it, we were schlepping our stuff back home, and the workman was walking me through the house and pointing out what he did around the house.

I am no workman. I am no foundation expert. I’m reasonably handy, but I clearly know so little about foundations that I bought a house with apparently foundation problems. At least I can console myself with the knowledge that my home inspector missed it too. At any rate, I couldn’t see the before and after difference. I expected the transformation to be more notable. More level. Engineered hardwood level. That was, after all, what the man told me he’d likely be able to accomplish. Well, likely and actually are two different things. Yes, my foundation is more level, and the work was done expediently and professionally. I can still close all the doors in my house, but I can’t put down engineered hardwood. Not even close. I really can’t tell a difference, definitely not a few thousand dollars worth of difference.

When our flooring guy came out that afternoon, he pronounced the house significantly improved. He should know: He has worked in the flooring business for years and years. Still, he also confessed that our floor was the worst he’d ever seen in all those years and years. So, I guess that still puts us on the poop side of crap.

So, in an effort to buoy our flagging spirits, we decided to get the wood stove that my husband has been dreaming about since he split all the wood from the sixty-year-old oak trees. And, of course, carpet. Lots and lots of carpet.

Wish us luck. The wood-stove expert is coming to evaluate our house this afternoon.



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