Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Editor’s note: I made four posts in a row last night to catch up, scroll back and check them out.
I’ve become a little old lady.
It actually started when I came home to visit in September. Michelle and I live in a neighborhood with an eclectic mix of houses. Behind us is a really nice house, a block away is a nice street with well kept houses. We live on a corner, and a lot of the houses in our immediate vicinity are smallish, 2-3 bedroom rental properties, in a variety of states of care. The house directly across from us is actually a small, one bedroom house. When we first moved in, people lived there, including an older man named Jerry, who we loved. Most of the time, he would answer the door in his boxers, classic Jerry. One time, he was backing his car out of the driveway and he accidentally went across the street and ran into our tree. After Jerry was a series of renters, none of whom stayed long, and now the place has been vacant for probably three years. It doesn’t look great, but it’s nice having a backyard that is not my own where I can toss my brush.
In September, when I was home for a week, there was some activity over there. They seemed to be digging up and repairing the sewer line to the house, which was great because that had been the catalyst for people moving out, I was told.
Then, they took a big backhoe and tore two giant holes into the front of the house. I’m posting a picture, but remember, this is not indicative of our neighborhood, because this looks awful.
I thought, “Wow, they’re really doing some renovations on that little place. I can’t wait to see what it looks like next time I’m home.”
Fast forward three months and I’ve arrived back home for good. The house looks exactly the same. Well, I shouldn’t say exactly, they did spray paint, “Posted” in orange spray paint on the front of the house. But, the gaping holes in the front of the house are still there, while everything, everything on the inside is stripped, save for a ceiling fan and a couch. It looks like a set for Winter’s Bone. You can’t just do that, and leave it, can you?
So, I took it upon my 80 year old, grandmotherly self to call the city. It was my first time doing such a thing. In a couple of weeks, they had posted an 8 1/2 X 11 yellow paper stating that it was a dangerous building on the front. My first thought was, “You can trust the city to do their job, like you could in my day.”
Then, out of nowhere, yesterday, there was activity across the street that I saw as I peered through my blinds. These big trucks were there and there were men with chainsaws tearing down giant tree branches and smaller trees. Within an hour, they were gone, it was amazing and mysterious. Now, you could see the crappy house even better, I think their purpose was defeated.
Then, again out of nowhere, I looked outside in the afternoon, and boom, there is a giant, orange dumpster planted in the yard. So far it’s just been sitting, waiting to see if anything is going to happen. Are they going to throw in the scraps from the house? Are they going to tear down the house and put it in the dumpster?
I have no idea!
But, I’m afraid to leave in case I miss it.
Because, my old lady self is giving way to my 8 year old boy self. I might be able to see a house get torn up by big machines!
I will keep you updated, because nothing happens here that I don’t see.