| Biographical Non-Fiction posted September 7, 2013 | Chapters: |
...19 20 -21- 22... 
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Moving often involves numerous problems.
A chapter in the book Chasing the Elusive Dream
You Really Do See Stars
by BethShelby
My son didn't pay a lot of attention to his school work or to warning we might give him to keep him from having an accident, but he did seemed tuned in to anything the girls might have which he felt he was lacking.
"Why can't I have my own bed and my own room? Carol and Christi have a room."
"I know, Don. You need one," I said. "We're working on it. Try to be patient. Hopefully, it won't be long before we can move into a bigger house."
We'd spent ten years in our first house. The girls roomed together, but ever since Don outgrew his baby bed, I'd made a bed for him every night on the couch in the room we used as a den. Since our country acreage was too far from our jobs to commute, Evan bought a three-acre tract near the new interstate highway 20. It was ten miles from Jackson, where we worked, but ten miles closer to the farm property. He'd spent most evenings lately drawing up house plans. His time as an architectural draftsman came in handy.
The idea of a new and larger house was appealing, but we'd enjoyed our years of living in the Jackson house. Our lot was nicely landscaped and had a large fenced area in the back for pets and children. Evan had built a 12 X 12 workshop at the back of the lot, where he'd produced tables, lamps, a gun cabinet, a stereo cabinet, and many smaller projects. The past summer, we'd had a a nice garden.
Our new lot had no nearby houses, but it was located in a quaint little town which seemed like a better place to raise children. Since the children were attending a church school, having a public school nearby wasn't something we felt we needed.
Evan finished the plans, made copies, and sent them for construction bids. The first one that came back was discouraging. We'd paid only $12,500 for the house we had, including the large lot. We weren't expecting the cost of building on our furnished lot in 1969 to be so far out of our price range.
"Beth, I'm sorry. There is no way we can afford to pay $40,000 to have this house built. We won't be able to afford the mortgage payments we'll have. I think we're going to have to forget it."
"Let's don't give up yet. There are two more bids that haven't come in," I reminded him. "We've got to have more space. Don can't keep sleeping in the den. Maybe we'll have to try adding on to this house."
The next bid came in at $28,000, but it was still too steep for us. When we got the final bid, it was only $18,000. This was a lot more like it even if the builder was new on the scene.
"We may be able to swing it," Evan told me. I think the bank will loan us enough if we sell this house and cash in our insurance's policies. Of course until we sell it, we're still going to be stuck with the $90 monthly mortgage on this one,"
"I've learned one thing from this. You were smart to get three bids. We should never buy anything with the first price quoted. Look how much difference there is between the prices."
"This contractor is a young guy. I think he knows the building trade, because he's worked with his contractor dad since he was a teenager, but this is his first time bidding a job on his own. He may have underestimated what he can build it for. Still, if he signs a contract with us and the bank, he'll have to build it for this price even if he loses money."
"The real estate market is down right now. Why don't we try renting this house out, so we'll have money for the mortgage and worry about selling it later?" I suggested.
"That's not a bad idea. Let's get in touch with an agent to handle renting it, while they are building our house."
It was exciting picking out tiles, carpet and appliances for our new house. Almost every evening after work, we drove to the building site to watch the progress. Sure enough, our builder had underestimated the cost of the job and was trying to compensate by cutting corners. Evan studied our contract and made sure he stuck to it, even though there were times he had to redo some things. Since he was starting to lose money, the contractor was less cordial each time we saw him.
The original closing date on our new house passed without it being completely finished. Our Realtor told us she'd found a tenant for our Jackson house, but they needed to move in right away.
"This is probably the best opportunity to rent this house you'll get," she told us. "These people would be wonderful renters. They have great references and are willing to pay top dollar, but they must find something by this weekend."
We checked and found we could go ahead and move in, if we were willing to let the carpenters come the following week to finish putting up the stair railing. We'd expected more notice before moving, and we'd not even started packing.
"Tell the people we'll be out of the house by Friday, and they can move in this weekend," Evan told the agent.
I looked at him in disbelief. "It will take us that long just to clean out the closets. I've got all those dishes to pack, and what about your shop and the storage room we can barely get into? Besides after we do all that, we've got to try to leave the place clean."
"I think we can do it," he argued. "Let's just get started."
Lacking funds to call a moving company, we rented a U-Haul and began our move. We had three days and only evenings after work to accomplish a monumental task. By evening of the third day, we'd moved the furniture except our beds, but we were not even close to finishing. We had piles of household goods, which needed to be separated from our growing junk pile. That night, we worked until three in the morning. The kids were asleep on the floor. In the end, we didn't have the strength left to do a good job of cleaning.
"We were crazy to attempt this," Evan admitted. "Never again are we going to let anyone push us out on so short a notice. If there are any more moves in our future, we'll take our time and do it right."
The next day the renters, who were in such a hurry to get in so they could be free to watch the Sunday ball game, decided they didn't want our house after all. It probably wasn't clean enough for them. The agent apologized and said she'd find someone else as soon as she could.
We were in our new house, but with no stair rails, I was worried. "Please be careful," I cautioned the children. "Walk very slowly and hug the wall on your way up. Someone could fall and get hurt bad."
The house was a split-level with four steps down to the lower level and eight leading up to the bedrooms. The foyer, living room, dining room, and kitchen were on the main level.
On Sunday afternoon, Evan went out to the farm to check on his cattle. The kids and I stayed at the house to organize things. In spite of the many warnings, Don came racing down the upstairs hallway and didn't slow down when he hit the landing. Just before he went airborne, he tripped, which sent him headfirst toward the foyer floor. I stood in the middle of the living room, rooted to the spot, as I watched in horror.
Don sat up quickly, looking dazed. A rapidly rising lump appeared on the top of his head. I was in a panic. Evan had the car. Our truck was in for repairs, and our phone hadn't been installed yet. There were no nearby neighbors to call. All I knew to do was apply ice and pray.
He could have broken his neck, but except for the large lump, he didn't appear badly hurt. Still, I was concerned there might be a concussion. If I'd had the option, I would have rushed him to the emergency room. In spite of my anxiety, his comment made me smile.
"You know what, Mom? When you hit your head just right, you really do see stars."
My son didn't pay a lot of attention to his school work or to warning we might give him to keep him from having an accident, but he did seemed tuned in to anything the girls might have which he felt he was lacking.
"Why can't I have my own bed and my own room? Carol and Christi have a room."
"I know, Don. You need one," I said. "We're working on it. Try to be patient. Hopefully, it won't be long before we can move into a bigger house."
We'd spent ten years in our first house. The girls roomed together, but ever since Don outgrew his baby bed, I'd made a bed for him every night on the couch in the room we used as a den. Since our country acreage was too far from our jobs to commute, Evan bought a three-acre tract near the new interstate highway 20. It was ten miles from Jackson, where we worked, but ten miles closer to the farm property. He'd spent most evenings lately drawing up house plans. His time as an architectural draftsman came in handy.
The idea of a new and larger house was appealing, but we'd enjoyed our years of living in the Jackson house. Our lot was nicely landscaped and had a large fenced area in the back for pets and children. Evan had built a 12 X 12 workshop at the back of the lot, where he'd produced tables, lamps, a gun cabinet, a stereo cabinet, and many smaller projects. The past summer, we'd had a a nice garden.
Our new lot had no nearby houses, but it was located in a quaint little town which seemed like a better place to raise children. Since the children were attending a church school, having a public school nearby wasn't something we felt we needed.
Evan finished the plans, made copies, and sent them for construction bids. The first one that came back was discouraging. We'd paid only $12,500 for the house we had, including the large lot. We weren't expecting the cost of building on our furnished lot in 1969 to be so far out of our price range.
"Beth, I'm sorry. There is no way we can afford to pay $40,000 to have this house built. We won't be able to afford the mortgage payments we'll have. I think we're going to have to forget it."
"Let's don't give up yet. There are two more bids that haven't come in," I reminded him. "We've got to have more space. Don can't keep sleeping in the den. Maybe we'll have to try adding on to this house."
The next bid came in at $28,000, but it was still too steep for us. When we got the final bid, it was only $18,000. This was a lot more like it even if the builder was new on the scene.
"We may be able to swing it," Evan told me. I think the bank will loan us enough if we sell this house and cash in our insurance's policies. Of course until we sell it, we're still going to be stuck with the $90 monthly mortgage on this one,"
"I've learned one thing from this. You were smart to get three bids. We should never buy anything with the first price quoted. Look how much difference there is between the prices."
"This contractor is a young guy. I think he knows the building trade, because he's worked with his contractor dad since he was a teenager, but this is his first time bidding a job on his own. He may have underestimated what he can build it for. Still, if he signs a contract with us and the bank, he'll have to build it for this price even if he loses money."
"The real estate market is down right now. Why don't we try renting this house out, so we'll have money for the mortgage and worry about selling it later?" I suggested.
"That's not a bad idea. Let's get in touch with an agent to handle renting it, while they are building our house."
It was exciting picking out tiles, carpet and appliances for our new house. Almost every evening after work, we drove to the building site to watch the progress. Sure enough, our builder had underestimated the cost of the job and was trying to compensate by cutting corners. Evan studied our contract and made sure he stuck to it, even though there were times he had to redo some things. Since he was starting to lose money, the contractor was less cordial each time we saw him.
The original closing date on our new house passed without it being completely finished. Our Realtor told us she'd found a tenant for our Jackson house, but they needed to move in right away.
"This is probably the best opportunity to rent this house you'll get," she told us. "These people would be wonderful renters. They have great references and are willing to pay top dollar, but they must find something by this weekend."
We checked and found we could go ahead and move in, if we were willing to let the carpenters come the following week to finish putting up the stair railing. We'd expected more notice before moving, and we'd not even started packing.
"Tell the people we'll be out of the house by Friday, and they can move in this weekend," Evan told the agent.
I looked at him in disbelief. "It will take us that long just to clean out the closets. I've got all those dishes to pack, and what about your shop and the storage room we can barely get into? Besides after we do all that, we've got to try to leave the place clean."
"I think we can do it," he argued. "Let's just get started."
Lacking funds to call a moving company, we rented a U-Haul and began our move. We had three days and only evenings after work to accomplish a monumental task. By evening of the third day, we'd moved the furniture except our beds, but we were not even close to finishing. We had piles of household goods, which needed to be separated from our growing junk pile. That night, we worked until three in the morning. The kids were asleep on the floor. In the end, we didn't have the strength left to do a good job of cleaning.
"We were crazy to attempt this," Evan admitted. "Never again are we going to let anyone push us out on so short a notice. If there are any more moves in our future, we'll take our time and do it right."
The next day the renters, who were in such a hurry to get in so they could be free to watch the Sunday ball game, decided they didn't want our house after all. It probably wasn't clean enough for them. The agent apologized and said she'd find someone else as soon as she could.
We were in our new house, but with no stair rails, I was worried. "Please be careful," I cautioned the children. "Walk very slowly and hug the wall on your way up. Someone could fall and get hurt bad."
The house was a split-level with four steps down to the lower level and eight leading up to the bedrooms. The foyer, living room, dining room, and kitchen were on the main level.
On Sunday afternoon, Evan went out to the farm to check on his cattle. The kids and I stayed at the house to organize things. In spite of the many warnings, Don came racing down the upstairs hallway and didn't slow down when he hit the landing. Just before he went airborne, he tripped, which sent him headfirst toward the foyer floor. I stood in the middle of the living room, rooted to the spot, as I watched in horror.
Don sat up quickly, looking dazed. A rapidly rising lump appeared on the top of his head. I was in a panic. Evan had the car. Our truck was in for repairs, and our phone hadn't been installed yet. There were no nearby neighbors to call. All I knew to do was apply ice and pray.
He could have broken his neck, but except for the large lump, he didn't appear badly hurt. Still, I was concerned there might be a concussion. If I'd had the option, I would have rushed him to the emergency room. In spite of my anxiety, his comment made me smile.
"You know what, Mom? When you hit your head just right, you really do see stars."
"I know, Don. You need one," I said. "We're working on it. Try to be patient. Hopefully, it won't be long before we can move into a bigger house."
We'd spent ten years in our first house. The girls roomed together, but ever since Don outgrew his baby bed, I'd made a bed for him every night on the couch in the room we used as a den. Since our country acreage was too far from our jobs to commute, Evan bought a three-acre tract near the new interstate highway 20. It was ten miles from Jackson, where we worked, but ten miles closer to the farm property. He'd spent most evenings lately drawing up house plans. His time as an architectural draftsman came in handy.
The idea of a new and larger house was appealing, but we'd enjoyed our years of living in the Jackson house. Our lot was nicely landscaped and had a large fenced area in the back for pets and children. Evan had built a 12 X 12 workshop at the back of the lot, where he'd produced tables, lamps, a gun cabinet, a stereo cabinet, and many smaller projects. The past summer, we'd had a a nice garden.
Our new lot had no nearby houses, but it was located in a quaint little town which seemed like a better place to raise children. Since the children were attending a church school, having a public school nearby wasn't something we felt we needed.
Evan finished the plans, made copies, and sent them for construction bids. The first one that came back was discouraging. We'd paid only $12,500 for the house we had, including the large lot. We weren't expecting the cost of building on our furnished lot in 1969 to be so far out of our price range.
"Beth, I'm sorry. There is no way we can afford to pay $40,000 to have this house built. We won't be able to afford the mortgage payments we'll have. I think we're going to have to forget it."
"Let's don't give up yet. There are two more bids that haven't come in," I reminded him. "We've got to have more space. Don can't keep sleeping in the den. Maybe we'll have to try adding on to this house."
The next bid came in at $28,000, but it was still too steep for us. When we got the final bid, it was only $18,000. This was a lot more like it even if the builder was new on the scene.
"We may be able to swing it," Evan told me. I think the bank will loan us enough if we sell this house and cash in our insurance's policies. Of course until we sell it, we're still going to be stuck with the $90 monthly mortgage on this one,"
"I've learned one thing from this. You were smart to get three bids. We should never buy anything with the first price quoted. Look how much difference there is between the prices."
"This contractor is a young guy. I think he knows the building trade, because he's worked with his contractor dad since he was a teenager, but this is his first time bidding a job on his own. He may have underestimated what he can build it for. Still, if he signs a contract with us and the bank, he'll have to build it for this price even if he loses money."
"The real estate market is down right now. Why don't we try renting this house out, so we'll have money for the mortgage and worry about selling it later?" I suggested.
"That's not a bad idea. Let's get in touch with an agent to handle renting it, while they are building our house."
It was exciting picking out tiles, carpet and appliances for our new house. Almost every evening after work, we drove to the building site to watch the progress. Sure enough, our builder had underestimated the cost of the job and was trying to compensate by cutting corners. Evan studied our contract and made sure he stuck to it, even though there were times he had to redo some things. Since he was starting to lose money, the contractor was less cordial each time we saw him.
The original closing date on our new house passed without it being completely finished. Our Realtor told us she'd found a tenant for our Jackson house, but they needed to move in right away.
"This is probably the best opportunity to rent this house you'll get," she told us. "These people would be wonderful renters. They have great references and are willing to pay top dollar, but they must find something by this weekend."
We checked and found we could go ahead and move in, if we were willing to let the carpenters come the following week to finish putting up the stair railing. We'd expected more notice before moving, and we'd not even started packing.
"Tell the people we'll be out of the house by Friday, and they can move in this weekend," Evan told the agent.
I looked at him in disbelief. "It will take us that long just to clean out the closets. I've got all those dishes to pack, and what about your shop and the storage room we can barely get into? Besides after we do all that, we've got to try to leave the place clean."
"I think we can do it," he argued. "Let's just get started."
Lacking funds to call a moving company, we rented a U-Haul and began our move. We had three days and only evenings after work to accomplish a monumental task. By evening of the third day, we'd moved the furniture except our beds, but we were not even close to finishing. We had piles of household goods, which needed to be separated from our growing junk pile. That night, we worked until three in the morning. The kids were asleep on the floor. In the end, we didn't have the strength left to do a good job of cleaning.
"We were crazy to attempt this," Evan admitted. "Never again are we going to let anyone push us out on so short a notice. If there are any more moves in our future, we'll take our time and do it right."
The next day the renters, who were in such a hurry to get in so they could be free to watch the Sunday ball game, decided they didn't want our house after all. It probably wasn't clean enough for them. The agent apologized and said she'd find someone else as soon as she could.
We were in our new house, but with no stair rails, I was worried. "Please be careful," I cautioned the children. "Walk very slowly and hug the wall on your way up. Someone could fall and get hurt bad."
The house was a split-level with four steps down to the lower level and eight leading up to the bedrooms. The foyer, living room, dining room, and kitchen were on the main level.
On Sunday afternoon, Evan went out to the farm to check on his cattle. The kids and I stayed at the house to organize things. In spite of the many warnings, Don came racing down the upstairs hallway and didn't slow down when he hit the landing. Just before he went airborne, he tripped, which sent him headfirst toward the foyer floor. I stood in the middle of the living room, rooted to the spot, as I watched in horror.
Don sat up quickly, looking dazed. A rapidly rising lump appeared on the top of his head. I was in a panic. Evan had the car. Our truck was in for repairs, and our phone hadn't been installed yet. There were no nearby neighbors to call. All I knew to do was apply ice and pray.
He could have broken his neck, but except for the large lump, he didn't appear badly hurt. Still, I was concerned there might be a concussion. If I'd had the option, I would have rushed him to the emergency room. In spite of my anxiety, his comment made me smile.
"You know what, Mom? When you hit your head just right, you really do see stars."
 Recognized |
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This story is a continuation of Chasing the Elusive Dream, but until it is no longer active, it will remain a stand alone story.
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