NaDruWrNI Chapter One: The Reno
Nov. 2nd, 2024 10:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_siobhanI'm on my second very strong G&T. This one comes from not being able to think about anything that isn't fucking reno hell.
The city permits went up on a Tuesday.
“Oh, you’re remodelling?” Mrs Johnston was walking her dog the day the signs went up. “I can give you the name of the company that did our kitchen if you are looking for somebody. They’re very good.”
“Thank you, but it’s already arranged,” said Mrs Adams. She didn’t smile – nobody from the Adams house ever fully smiled. But she nodded graciously before collecting her mail and going back inside.
The noises started the following Monday.
“What’s she building in there?” asked Mr Smith over doughnuts and weak coffee at the close of the PTA meeting.
“I think we talked about... her kitchen?” said Mrs Johnston. She helped herself to another cruller. “I think it was kitchens we talked about.”
The residents on either side began to look haggard as the work went on.
“It’s not the noise,” Mr Brown explained at the monthly HOA board meeting. “I mean the noises are... disturbing. All those... well they aren’t voices exactly. But they stop at exactly 7 PM – exactly 7 PM every day - just as the rules say so we have no cause for complaint about the noise.”
“But it almost seems like there are vibrations or something?” interjected Mrs Brown. “That don’t stop? I mean we did get a monitor and it didn’t register anything, but I just haven’t been able to sleep...”
At the start of the second month, the Johnston’s stood outside, craning their necks upwards. Their Lhasa Apso cowered between their legs.
“Not a kitchen then,” observed Mr Johnston.
The work stopped exactly six months after it started. The municipal planning department received several polite letters asking about elevation regulations in the local zoning, but the drones that were sent out registered nothing outside of the regulations. Eventually the requests for information dropped off.
Similarly, angry emails to the local newspaper were investigated by the reporters who worked the community desks and came to nothing.
The neighbours eventually came to accept the remodel despite their reservations.
“My son’s friends all say 'it fucks’ although I don’t know how that’s supposed to be good,” said Mrs Heath while she waited in line at the neighbourhood Annual Garage Sale and Community BBQ. “Regardless I checked the real estate listings for the neighbourhood and it seems like our resale values have gone up since it was built? So apparently people like that sort of thing.”
“Probably people from downtown,” agreed Mrs Ledger. They both looked towards the Adams house to contemplate it’s new profile.
The Browns put their house up for sale a month later.
“It’s a granny flat,” said Mrs Adams when she attended the emergency HOA meeting. “My mother is living there.”
“Oh we couldn’t possibly object to a granny suite,” said Mr Johnston. He looked at the rest of the HOA board and hesitated. “I mean – that is within our community mandate. Don’t you all agree?”
“Perhaps we could meet your mother,” said Mrs Smith. “So we could welcome her to the neighbourhood?”
“That could be arranged,” said Mrs Adams.
Mrs Adams Senior attended the next regularly scheduled HOA meeting. She made a beeline for Mr Johnston.
“I WISH TO THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT WHEN MY DAUGHTER MADE CHANGES TO HER HOME / YOU ARE TRULY NEIGHBOURLY”
“Um. Thank you.” Mr Johnston cowered.
“I JUST WANTED TO MAKE SURE YOU KNOW I APPRECIATE IT / PLEASE HAVE A LEMON SQUARE I MADE THEM MYSELF / ALSO DO NOT DRINK THE PUNCH TONIGHT.”
The lemon squares were delicious. The punch even more so. The Johnstons did not have either.
The HOA dissolved in the months after, mostly because people in the neighbourhood seemed to lose interest. Many of the older residents were leaving, taking advantage of the fact their property values were very hight. The new people who moved in seemed to have their own way of doing things.
“Downtowners,” sniffed Mrs Ledger before handing her keys to the Real Estate agent for the last time and getting into the cube van that would take her away.
The Wilsons moved into the neighourhood six months later. Their options had been limited, and they knew that buying a house sight unseen was a risky move. But both the real estate agent and the financial assistant at the bank assured them this was their chance and so the day the unloaded their by-the-hour cargo van in front of the old Smith house was the fist time they saw their new home.
“This is... worrying,” said Mr Wilson, staring out the front window.
“I think it’s cool,” said their oldest, before darting off to explore. Her parents exchanged a worried look before Mrs Wilson followed her.
“The house seems fine?” said Mrs Wilson after looking through the rooms. “It smells ok, no sign of rats, all the electricals work, no water damage - nothing out of the ordinary? What do you think?”
“No idea,” said Mr Wilson. “I looked outside and didn’t see any animal damage. But you know, there’s... that.” He gestured.
The doorbell rang.
The Wilsons looked at each other and tensed. If there was going to be a problem, this was when they were going to find out about it.
“Girls, let’s go pick out your rooms,.” said Mrs Wilson and she guided their children upstairs. Mr Wilson squared his shoulders and opened the door.
“Hello!” said Mrs Johnston. “We saw you pull up in your truck, you must be the new neighbours! It’s so good to have you here!”
“WELCOME TO THE NEIGHBOURHOOD,” said Mrs Adams Senior “I HAVE BROUGHT YOU LEMON SQUARES.”
Mr Wilson looked at his new neighbours and felt his shoulders relax.
“Honey, bring the girls down,” he called behind him. “I think we’re going to be good here.”
The city permits went up on a Tuesday.
“Oh, you’re remodelling?” Mrs Johnston was walking her dog the day the signs went up. “I can give you the name of the company that did our kitchen if you are looking for somebody. They’re very good.”
“Thank you, but it’s already arranged,” said Mrs Adams. She didn’t smile – nobody from the Adams house ever fully smiled. But she nodded graciously before collecting her mail and going back inside.
The noises started the following Monday.
“What’s she building in there?” asked Mr Smith over doughnuts and weak coffee at the close of the PTA meeting.
“I think we talked about... her kitchen?” said Mrs Johnston. She helped herself to another cruller. “I think it was kitchens we talked about.”
The residents on either side began to look haggard as the work went on.
“It’s not the noise,” Mr Brown explained at the monthly HOA board meeting. “I mean the noises are... disturbing. All those... well they aren’t voices exactly. But they stop at exactly 7 PM – exactly 7 PM every day - just as the rules say so we have no cause for complaint about the noise.”
“But it almost seems like there are vibrations or something?” interjected Mrs Brown. “That don’t stop? I mean we did get a monitor and it didn’t register anything, but I just haven’t been able to sleep...”
At the start of the second month, the Johnston’s stood outside, craning their necks upwards. Their Lhasa Apso cowered between their legs.
“Not a kitchen then,” observed Mr Johnston.
The work stopped exactly six months after it started. The municipal planning department received several polite letters asking about elevation regulations in the local zoning, but the drones that were sent out registered nothing outside of the regulations. Eventually the requests for information dropped off.
Similarly, angry emails to the local newspaper were investigated by the reporters who worked the community desks and came to nothing.
The neighbours eventually came to accept the remodel despite their reservations.
“My son’s friends all say 'it fucks’ although I don’t know how that’s supposed to be good,” said Mrs Heath while she waited in line at the neighbourhood Annual Garage Sale and Community BBQ. “Regardless I checked the real estate listings for the neighbourhood and it seems like our resale values have gone up since it was built? So apparently people like that sort of thing.”
“Probably people from downtown,” agreed Mrs Ledger. They both looked towards the Adams house to contemplate it’s new profile.
The Browns put their house up for sale a month later.
“It’s a granny flat,” said Mrs Adams when she attended the emergency HOA meeting. “My mother is living there.”
“Oh we couldn’t possibly object to a granny suite,” said Mr Johnston. He looked at the rest of the HOA board and hesitated. “I mean – that is within our community mandate. Don’t you all agree?”
“Perhaps we could meet your mother,” said Mrs Smith. “So we could welcome her to the neighbourhood?”
“That could be arranged,” said Mrs Adams.
Mrs Adams Senior attended the next regularly scheduled HOA meeting. She made a beeline for Mr Johnston.
“I WISH TO THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT WHEN MY DAUGHTER MADE CHANGES TO HER HOME / YOU ARE TRULY NEIGHBOURLY”
“Um. Thank you.” Mr Johnston cowered.
“I JUST WANTED TO MAKE SURE YOU KNOW I APPRECIATE IT / PLEASE HAVE A LEMON SQUARE I MADE THEM MYSELF / ALSO DO NOT DRINK THE PUNCH TONIGHT.”
The lemon squares were delicious. The punch even more so. The Johnstons did not have either.
The HOA dissolved in the months after, mostly because people in the neighbourhood seemed to lose interest. Many of the older residents were leaving, taking advantage of the fact their property values were very hight. The new people who moved in seemed to have their own way of doing things.
“Downtowners,” sniffed Mrs Ledger before handing her keys to the Real Estate agent for the last time and getting into the cube van that would take her away.
The Wilsons moved into the neighourhood six months later. Their options had been limited, and they knew that buying a house sight unseen was a risky move. But both the real estate agent and the financial assistant at the bank assured them this was their chance and so the day the unloaded their by-the-hour cargo van in front of the old Smith house was the fist time they saw their new home.
“This is... worrying,” said Mr Wilson, staring out the front window.
“I think it’s cool,” said their oldest, before darting off to explore. Her parents exchanged a worried look before Mrs Wilson followed her.
“The house seems fine?” said Mrs Wilson after looking through the rooms. “It smells ok, no sign of rats, all the electricals work, no water damage - nothing out of the ordinary? What do you think?”
“No idea,” said Mr Wilson. “I looked outside and didn’t see any animal damage. But you know, there’s... that.” He gestured.
The doorbell rang.
The Wilsons looked at each other and tensed. If there was going to be a problem, this was when they were going to find out about it.
“Girls, let’s go pick out your rooms,.” said Mrs Wilson and she guided their children upstairs. Mr Wilson squared his shoulders and opened the door.
“Hello!” said Mrs Johnston. “We saw you pull up in your truck, you must be the new neighbours! It’s so good to have you here!”
“WELCOME TO THE NEIGHBOURHOOD,” said Mrs Adams Senior “I HAVE BROUGHT YOU LEMON SQUARES.”
Mr Wilson looked at his new neighbours and felt his shoulders relax.
“Honey, bring the girls down,” he called behind him. “I think we’re going to be good here.”
(no subject)
Date: 2024-11-03 02:49 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-11-03 03:04 am (UTC)