Friday, March 14, 2014
I am now officially a homeowner, again. The last week in February, after months of dealing with mortgage companies and lawyers and tax consultants, I was able to close on my late father's house.
I've lived here since April. In that time the water heater let go, the sewer line clogged and had to be dug up, and my fuel oil furnace crapped out on a day of sub zero temps. My landlords paid for it. By landlords, I mean my sisters. I had hoped that would be the extent of maintenance issues for a while. The house had other ideas.
About a week after closing, the electrical system started acting like the house was on an ancient Indian burial ground. The lights would go out when I turned on the garbage disposal. The garage door opened and closed on it's own a couple times. The thermostat picked temps like they were numbered balls in a lotto machine...stuff like that.
The ancient Indian burial ground theory was not really that far out to lunch. The word I always heard when I was a kid was that the subdivision was built near or on the site of an old Native American village. We used to find arrowheads in the creek behind our house. This was a definite possibility.
While I was in the process of researching local exorcists, I also called an electrician. The electrician checked things out and discovered a broken electrical line coming into the house. The exorcist was not needed. The local power company sent a guy out and in 20 minutes things were back to normal.
Just in case, though, exorcists are still being researched and a large supply of Holy water is being sought. Can't be too careful, you know....