Ah, winter is approaching and the familiar discontent is in the air. When the in-laws were still here, we got into it about the housing situation in the neighbourhood. As in, there’s no way in hell we can afford to buy a home here. Neither DH and I come from money so we’re not about to be gifted with any sizable “loans” or endowments and as far as I know, no one is about to die and leave us anything. In fact, if my mother were to pass away suddenly, my portion of her inheritance wouldn’t even cover a down payment for a crappity crap house around here. Then they started in on the house we currently live in. How it’s going to be so cold this winter, how all the heat is escaping the fireplace, how the walls in the bedroom are cold to the touch. How I won’t let DH put a heater in the kid’s room or seal up every flipping window in the house. It doesn’t snow a lot in Vancouver, but when it does, it mainly affects the outlying areas, suburbs and of course, neighbourhoods at a higher elevation like ours. DH just seemed to get more and more miserable about where we are. And this, after all the defensiveness he displayed when we first moved in and how he railed that he didn’t want to hear any “negative” or complaining comments.
Yes, it’s true the heating is inefficient to be sure. It’s either piping hot when the furnace comes on or cold when the preset temperature has been reached and the fan shuts off. Downstairs, it is actually warmer, I suspect that since that was “renovated” (and I use that term loosely) more recently, the temperature stays constant. DH has put up that plastic on just about every window and skylight (cause they’re single paned of course) and the only ones I didn’t let him do was the ones that open up in our bedroom and the kid’s bedroom. Cause god forbid, I like to crack open a window when either room starts to smell stuffy. We do have a dog and a poopy diapers to contend with. I had someone come in to check the gas furnace and I put in a carbon monoxide detector for safety. The heating guy said the furnace was working correctly but the main issue was that the house had single paned glass (which all the old houses have). Of course, the owner has no intention or installing double paned windows.
The Precious refuses a blanket over him, so we put him in footed pajamas and he cuddles the knitted wool blanket his grandma made him. One night we put him a in new fleece pj’s and he woke up with half of it off and a heat rash. From the time he was an infant, we could never overwrap him. So finding the right temperature, not too hot, not too cold has always been an issue. (A tip for parents – knitted wool breathes better than those luxurious plush blankets you see everywhere.) We did buy a couple of heaters, after DH carefully researched them for child safety and what not. We’re testing them out to see if they work well. We’d like to be able to lower the temperature at night so our heating bill doesn’t go through the roof.
I suspect that we won’t be staying here too long, of course, yet that really depends on how work goes for DH. We knew already that this was far from our dream home. I feel my toes curling at the thought of making another move to a house that is not ours. Yesterday, I was trying to rake leaves – the kid and the dog milling about – and this realtor comes up to me and hands me her card and asks if I want to sell my house. Haha. This happens a lot in this neighbourhood. Realtors and strangers actually go door to door asking if you want to sell your house. Particularly if you live in an old house on a corner lot. No, I smile, we’re fine. Good place to raise kids, eh? Yes, I smile, it is. Just the one? Yes, he’s my one and only.
Of course, I know there’s plenty of great places around this city to raise kids. Not just here in the “creme de la creme” neck of the woods. If it were just the two of us, it wouldn’t matter so much, but when you have a kid, you suddenly have to start thinking about schools and neighbourhoods and quiet, tree lined streets. I want to know my neighbours, put down roots, unpack once and for all.
I’m getting old, eh?