Great Leaping Refuse…As the Condo Turns

Why another post? After my exit from this series yesterday, Britt Girl sent me a comment to say that one of her favourite things about condo living, was the garbage chute. Great leaping refuse!  How could I have forgotten to mention, nay praise, the almighty garbage chute! So I’m back to pay homage.

Picture this: The big-ass house I had before becoming a condoarian, was in the country. So the property was large with a long driveway out to the road. On garbage day, especially in the winter, I would don my parka over my PJ’s and go out to the garage.  There, with freezing fingers, I would tag each bag ( we paid for pick-up) and load one at a time on to a hand cart. Then I would wheel the damn thing up the driveway, tipping the bags off the trolley several times through the bumpy ride.

Beware of dogs: At the same time, I was armed with a stick and my trusty ultrasonic dog repeller to defend myself from the 12 neighbourhood dogs that roamed the area, despite their electronic fences. My nutty neighbour next door had 5 of them and those barking pooches watched my every move. She also had 13 cats and built an addition on her house for them, but that’s a story for another day. Okay, are you with me so far?

Job well done: After several trips up and down said driveway, while looking over my shoulder for canine attacks, I would leave all the bags neatly lined up at the edge of the roadway for the town garbage and recycle trucks to pick up.

Garbage police:  Then as was often the case, as I sat working in my den – the trucks would arrive. If a bag was too large, or too heavy, or the dogs and crows had ripped it open, they simply left the bag beside the road and drove away. And when the recycle truck came along, the workers would peer through my clear plastic bags, and if they saw something they didn’t like inside , they would also reject the bag – and leave a big yellow note attached to it.

Crazy old lady: Now I consider myself to be a sane, albeit feisty sort of gal. But the actions by these garbage police drove me into a frenetic state of irrational rage. I would storm out the door and chase the truck down the street waving my recycle pamphlet , as they left me in their exhaust fumes.

Ultimate insult! Now do you have any idea how it feels to have your garbage rejected? Your garbage! And for the whole neighbourhood to see! People would smirk and look at our house, as they pointed at our bags and drove by. My poor dejected refuse, slumped in disgrace with their yellow rejection slips flashing like neon lights.

Encore performance: And the worst part was having to schlep all those bags back down the driveway and into the garage, only to get more stinky until the next pick-up day – when I would have even more bags to schlep back up the driveway!

Have a cigarette: So you can understand my orgasmic state of mind, when I simply throw my garbage into a chute and walk away. It’s euphoric, blissful and sublime – I tell you. No fuss, no muss, no kidding!

Until next time – these are the days of our lives.

Enjoy the Good Life – As the Condo Turns

In the final episode of this mini-series, I just have a few more things to say.

Buying a box in the sky and paying condo fees is something Hubsey and I said we would never do. And yet, here we are with no regrets, albeit on the ground floor.

Paying condo fees is not an appealing prospect for most people. But if the fees are commensurate with the location, number of on-site amenities and quality of the building – in my view, it’s worth digging deep every month to pay for it.

Tip of the day – Enjoy the good life!

Okay, I’ve talked about a lot of things over the past 9 days, including condo envy, codger-dodgers, good and bad condo boards, and crotchety old farts who roam the halls enforcing the rules. 

And if I’ve learned anything here, it’s that living in a condo community means you have to compromise, and you can’t always do things your own way. But like anything in life, you learn to put up with the bad, as long as the good takes up a bigger space.

So I’d like to sign-off this series on a positive note. Because despite my numerous failed attempts at storming the castle to change some things – I do enjoy condo living!

Top 10 things I love:

1. Swimming during a snowstorm.
2. Stepping outside for a walk along the waterfront.
3. Feeling safe and protected.
4. Enjoying the gardens from my ground floor patio.
5. Taking yoga classes right downstairs.
6. Mailing letters from the lobby.
7. Making friends with like-minded people.
8. Leaving on vacation with no worries.
9. Living in a smaller space where everything has its place.
10. Being 10 minutes away from my daughter and granddaughter.

And that’s it from me to you, in this (not so final) final episode of…As the Condo Turns.  Thanks for reading.

Until next time – these are the days of our lives.

Save Those Vintage Clothes – As the Condo Turns

Hey condo-folks! This is my penultimate post on the subject…well, for now anyway.  After 9 days of this, I’m getting condo-brained-out and I’m sure you’re well into condo-overload by now. Tomorrow will be my last post in this series of 10 episodes about condo living. But in the meantime, here’s today’s topic.

Tip of the day – Save those vintage clothes

One of the hardest things about downsizing and moving to a condo is getting rid of some favourite closet items. This includes the sophisticated Jackie Kennedy ensemble you bought in the 60’s, your favourite Moroccan-style kaftan for entertaining at home in the 70’s, and the power suit, complete with linebacker shoulder pads you wore so proudly in the 80’s. Well, I can tell you that you don’t have to throw out a thing!

Going to a social event in a condo building can be like attending a period fashion show. While many zoomers keep up with current fashions, some of the older residents hang on to their vintage haute couture with the iron grip of an aging actress looking for one final screen test. And if you’re lucky enough to attend a formal gathering with sequined ball gowns and tuxedos, you’ll be catapulted back into a movie set of bygone days. It’s like viewing a ballroom scene on the Titanic! And good for them. It’s a beautiful sight!

So don’t throw away a thing! Keep all your lovelies and don them with pride. You’ll be wearing your memories and be right at home. 

Until tomorrow…these are the days of our lives.

Relax and Make Friends – As the Condo Turns…

I’ve heard many aging boomers say they could never live in a condo with a bunch of old people. Well, most of us still have a lot of juice left in the blender, so don’t knock it ’til you try it. There’s comfort in living among others who have been there, done that. And you don’t have to suck in your gut or worry about any low-hanging bit and bobs when you go to the pool.

Tip of the day –   Relax and make friends

Living in a tall building of condo units is like living in a beehive. Most days, we all buzz around like contented little condo-bees. Oh sure, there may be some with more active stingers than others, and a few may have more venom in their ego-sacs. But deep down, we all want the same thing – a safe and happy community.

My granddaughter has a difficult time thinking of me in any way, other than the grandmother she has always known. It’s a difficult concept for her to picture me in my younger days and imagine me as a mother with a career, just like her mother.

In the same way, everyone in a condo building has history and experiences hidden away in their baggage. We have all “bee-n” (pardon the pun) somebody else before becoming who we are today. Just imagine the wealth of knowledge and adventures stacked up in all those units, one on top of the other – like a bee colony!

In my experience, people living in a condo environment are friendly and generous in sharing their backgrounds. It’s easy to meet new people and so interesting to hear the incredible stories of the lives they’ve  lived. And it’s not all past tense, by any means. More and more zoomers continue to work and travel, with no plans to stop.

Living in a detached home can sometimes feel isolated, as we grow older. We may no longer go out to work, and our social calendar may not be as busy due to health or circumstance. But in a condo – you’re never lonely.  

Regardless of the weather, just step outside your door to get the mail, go for a swim, or a run on the treadmill. There is always someone to talk to and chances are, you’ll find common ground to talk about.

If you’re like me, you’ll thank your lucky condo-stars that you made the decision to downsize that big-ass house, and BEE happy in a wonderful community of like-minded people.

Until tomorrow – these are the days of our lives.

Do Your Homework – As the Condo Turns…

Today I’ll touch on the more serious side of things…
It’s all fun and games until somebody buys the wrong condo!

Tip of the day – Do your homework

1. Like what you see: Can you picture yourself there? Does it “feel” like home? Do you like the view from the windows? What can you hear? If something bugs you now, it will drive you nuts down the road. 

2. Read the rules: Check out pet restrictions to make sure your beloved little Snuffles, doesn’t have to go to a “nice family out in the country” before you move in. 

3. Look before you leap: Take your time and compare, to get the best bang for your condo buck. Remember, your real estate agent wants to make his commission and go home. You have to live there and pay condo fees, forever and ever and ever…

4. Assume nothing: Ask to see the Status Certificate. Find out how they spend their money. This is probably the most important element of your decision, and the one most of us ignore out of unfamiliarity or simple trust.

5. Check under the hood:  Just because everything looks good on the outside, doesn’t mean the innards of the building are in good working order. When was the last reserve fund study done? Are there any special assessments planned? The roof on a condo building doesn’t come cheap.

Until tomorrow…these are the days of our lives.     

Look Outside the Box – As the Condo Turns…

When you consider your choices  of  high-rise, low-rise, or no-rise, remember – what’s outside can be just as important as what’s inside.  

Tip of the day – Look Outside the Condo Box
As we plunge headlong into our dreaded golden years, it’s important to keep active. Blah, blah, blah you might say. Well, hear me out you old codgers and codgeresses in waiting. I kid you not! We all need to get out into the fresh gentle breezes on a regular basis, to keep the dust from settling into our wrinkles. 

So saying that, make it easy for yourself and choose a condo unit with walking options. Being in the middle of nowhere, or in an isolated suburban area will not entice you to go for that daily airing. But if you have a variety of shops, or access to a waterfront trail or parkland nearby, you will be encouraged to get out often.  

Having a destination like a drug store or grocery store is a good motivator to  abandon that recliner – as are coffee shops and restaurants. If possible, avoid choosing a place where you have to drive to everything. It isn’t good for your heart, your health or your hips! 

Until tomorrow…these are the days of our lives.

Beware of Condo Envy – As The Condo Turns…

I’m back! I’ve been busy doing all sorts of exciting work – full explanation will come with a big announcement in June! In the meantime – here’s the dealio.  

Condo patter: Further to my previous posts on condo living, I thought it was time to step it up a notch – especially for those of you considering  the spring market leap into condo-land.

Tune in daily: There may be many of you out there having sleepless nights, thinking about making the life-changing, mind-numbing, downsizing move to your first condo as a more mature citizen. Well, listen up! I have a lot to tell you about life in the condo lane – and I’ll do it all in the next 10 days. Compare it to a daily soap opera of sorts…a mini-series if you will.  Except the cast of characters won’t be naked (thankfully) or wearing the latest New York fashions (sadly), but there could be a few naughty bits of scandal along the way, (can you keep a secret?)

Here’s the scoop! While I’m still a newbie condoarian, I do have highly prejudiced experiences and unabashed opinionated observations to share with you, based on my life over the past nearly 3 years. And in no particular order, I’ll tell you about the good, the bad, the not-so-young, and the restless. So stay tuned.

Tip of the day: Beware of Condo Envy
All condos are not created equal. There are usually a variety of floor plans available in every condo building. And while you may choose one suitable for your needs, make sure you can stand the test of condo envy. There will always be another condo on a higher floor, a better view, more square footage etc., and you will be compared to those units.

In my experience, the first thing condo owners ask when they meet you, is  – what unit are you in and what floor are you on?  This is too often done in an effort to establish pecking order via square footage, view and market values. And that’s usually even before they ask your name! It becomes an obsession of comparison among the cotton-head community. And they do it very nicely, but it bugs the condo-crap out of me!

Now you know the inside scoop. It’s nothing to worry about, just be aware that it goes on. And no one will tell you about this or, least of all, admit to it.  So choose carefully, be happy with your investment and ignore the rest. 

Until tomorrow…these are the days of our lives.

Hello Blog? It’s Me, Pat

I may have left you in the lurch,
I hope I didn’t make you search,
There’s so much back-blog on my plate, 
But first I’ll bring you up to date.

I’m Back: Hello again blogger world – mea culpa! I’ve been AWOL for a few months, but my cyber-batteries are now fully recharged.  A change in routine is always invigorating. It tends to breathe new life into my ever-deteriorating-but-still-breathing  60 something body parts, and puts a sexy shine on my 50 shades of grey hair.

What’s Up? Okay, let’s get down to business. Before I give you something new, I want to give you something old and update just a few of my past post shenanigans. Just click on the post if you need a refresher on what started the rantz in my pantz in the first place.

SCARY WORLD of AGING:
Since I wrote this post, I discovered black spots and cobwebs floating around in my left eye. I keep swatting at the invisible bugs as they land on my book or in my food.  It’s all part of this wonderful world of  aging, I’m being told. And, between Hubsey and me, we have collected a plethora of frequent ambulance-ride-points to the local hospital over the past year. We plan to redeem the points at Christmas for a swanky new fly swatter.

BACK in the SADDLE:
Hubsey got his driver’s license back! Hooray! It took 18 months of wrestling with the motor vehicle department, the medical system, the eye-doctors, the bureaucracy and all the mistakes and delays along the way. And what a test! It was 3 hours long, part written, part cognitive, and part actual driving a car with an occupational therapist and a driving instructor. All this because he lost a minor bit of peripheral vision in his right eye. He’s only been driving for over 50 years. Anyway, he’s back driving with a bad case of wheel-envy because I’ve grown into such an awesome chauffeur during his reluctant absence.

WILD GOOSE CHASE
Well, this is still a big pile of political poop. I did meet with the Director of Parks and Outdoor Spaces, and with my local town councillor. That was in June. Promises were made to address the outdated Bird Treaty Act at the federal level – and to try a pilot project to control the geese, using one of the simple recommendations I made. Nothing has been done to date and the Director of Parks is not returning my follow-up attempts. I’m now in escalation mode and will keep honking until this crappy issue gets some action. TBC…

AS THE CONDO TURNS…
Where do I start on this one? I still spend way too much time and head space – hopelessly trying to change the way things are done here. But I remain relentless in my efforts to lift the plastic covers off the furniture and replace old girdles and corsets with a comfy pair of roomy bloomers. Maybe it’s the latex restriction or pants hiked up to the armpits – that makes these old codgers, dowagers and all things ancient –  pucker their mouths into that soul-sucking-sour-lemon look when I try to make changes. And despite my two-year effort, I’m sorry to report that I haven’t made a pinch of progress with the condo board. But I’m not giving up…so stay tuned.  

FARRELL’S FIRE:
On a happier and more successful note, I am always trying to be the best grandmother I can be and follow the principles I wrote about in this post. I am so incredibly proud of this little girl, now 10 years old. Please indulge an old woman and her pride for a moment, while I go on… 

She’s Kicking Butt: Farrell has been studying tae kwon do for 4 years and achieved her black belt status in June of this year! What a kid! If only she was there to help me, when in self-defense, I whacked a guy in the head with a bag of beans at the Farmer’s Market in Toronto many years ago – or when I punched my boss in the stomach! But I digress – those are stories for another post.

She’s making Waves:  Anyway, I have something to show you. I went through an Emily Carr stage a few years back and couldn’t read enough about this fascinating woman. I bought my daughter a coffee table book of Emily Carr paintings and Farrell was looking at them last month. Without saying anything, she went up to her room and started to paint this picture to give Hubsey for his birthday. 

She’s One of a Kind: It took her 5 days to layer the paint and complete the picture. Emily Carr influence and all – this is an original painting from the delightful imagination of a 10 year old. So I’m very happy to report that the flame in Farrell’s Fire continues to burn brightly for all those around her.

So there you have it for today,
That’s it, that’s all I have to say.
My blogger fingers have been flexed,
Just wait and see what’s coming next!

Pat Skene    

 

 

As the Condo Turns…

This condo life’s the life for me,
But I have issues…you will see,
With old farts on a condo board,
Who make suite owners feel ignored…

Opening Scene: If you’ve been following my blog, you may remember that we recently Downsized and moved to our first condo. It’s been nearly two years since we took that giant step into this community-type living arrangement. And we’ve met a whole gaggle of cotton-heads – all waddling into The Scary World of Aging along with us. So at least we have that in common, which is necessary when you live in a complex chock-a-block with wrinkled has-beens.

Cast of Characters: Oh get a grip! I’m not trying to bust your blogroll with that last comment. But when people age, the world at large tends to think of older people as just that – old people. But we all used to be something else in the world, before we got to retire and enjoy the good life here in this adult lifestyle complex. We represent every walk of life in various eras gone by, and now we get to be free agents. And that’s a wonderful thing.

Lifetime Performances: Old corporate dogs never die – they resurface on condo boards! Sometimes these retired pinstriped suits love to continue on in positions of power after getting the golden handshake. Consequently, some choose condo board positions to exercise the old school ‘mushroom style of management’ that was in business vogue back in the good old days. And now many condo residents suffer the ill effects of these fungus management techniques.

Great Actors: In my professed limited experience, I have found condo boards only pretend to be open for suggestions. But deep inside their cold little grinchy-hearts, they don’t like change, they discourage communication, they isolate potential status-quo-shakers, and they prefer an autocratic system of control. There’s no doubt these board members (mostly male) like to rule with a bony arthritic fist! And preferably in a locked room away from the rest of the annoying pesky suite owners.

Change the Scenery: I realize it will take time for the old guard to move on and allow the newer residents to sit in the power seats. It’s a trust issue as well. And they definitely have done many good things to date. But there’s more to modern-day condo living than bridge games, jigsaw puzzles and an anal-retentive book of rules. This isn’t an old folks home. And it’s not a place where dusty doilies go to die. We need new blood to make this a community for everyone to enjoy; not just the long time residents who hold on to ‘the way it’s always been’ with a death grip.

Happy Ending: But saying all that, I still love living here. Condo life is definitely the right life for Hubsey and me at this stage of our lives. Some of the rules are dumb-ass stupid, and we may not feel part of the decision process yet, but I know someday that will change. I need to be patient and it will come.

12 Things I’ve Learned About Condo Living

1. You can’t always get your own way.

2. You can enjoy the snow without shovelling it.

3. You can’t play your music or TV too loud.

4. You can feel safe and secure.

5. You can’t renovate without condo approval.

6. You can go swimming in the winter.

7. You can’t have deliveries outside approved hours.

8. You can always find someone to talk to.

9. You can’t expect to know why decisions are made.

10. You can expect to be frustrated when decisions are made.

11. You can’t wash the outside of your windows when they’re dirty.

12. You can ignore the politics and enjoy the simple life.

So all in all, this is a new lifestyle in progress. Stay tuned for the next episode of…As the Condo Turns.

So that’s my rant – that’s all she wrote,
What if they read my blogging note?
While condo rules may well restrict me,
At least those old farts can’t evict me…

Pat Skene

The BIG Move

After Mucking Out the Memories, I continue to trudge forward into the final stages of my downsizing saga. I’ll exit this series with a dishonorable discharge for the actual move itself. At this point, I hadn’t unclenched my back-teeth for two months and my neck felt like a cement post.   After I continue to trudge forward into the final stages of my downsizing saga. I’ll exit this series with a dishonorable discharge for the actual moveitself. At this point, I hadn’t unclenched my back-teeth for two months and my neck felt like a cement post.

The right moves: I did all the requisite things, like getting several estimates and performing a surgical evaluation of each moving company. I avoided the shady list of truck-gorillas whose reputations screamed – you pack ’em, we crack ’em! Instead, I chose three large international moving firms who I thought would be well versed in the art of changing spaces – and in the delicate handling of downsizer-shock and aging boomers-in-motion.

The wrong moves: In the final analysis, my selection wasn’t based on the cheapest bid or the strongest company – but foolishly on charisma, enthusiasm and promises. I was especially taken in by one particularly skilled salesperson, with a fresh young face and flawless pitch. She made my much-dreaded move sound so blissfully effortless. 

All hat and no cattle: Like a moth to the headlights of a moving van – I fell dreamily under the spell of this fast-talking wonder-woman. She said all the right things and I was eagerly sucked into the great abyss of her promises; pain-free packing and professional transport. But once the contract was signed, I soon found out that my fresh-faced girl, along with her company…was all truck and no wheels…all box and no cardboard…all pitch and no punch…well, you get my drift.

Now let’s be fair: I’m sure all moving companies are not the same. But the one I selected said it prided itself on customer service. And they were polite – I’ll give them that. It was the follow through and quality of their work that was a dismal failure. The company’s human resource department should be very proud. Every staff member I encountered was exceptionally friendly and courteous, while they lied like hell, ignored my instructions, threw my furniture around like frisbees and stuffed my treasured wedding dress into a jam cupboard.

The Highlights:

1…Planned ahead: The survival kit we packed to take with us in the car was invaluable. We included things like: bedding for the first night, linens, kettle, cups, wine, glasses, paper towels, clothes, wine, pills, toiletries, address book, t-towels, wine, dish soap, cleaning supplies etc. The bottom line, is bring the wine!

2…Followed the rules: We were careful to determine the condo rules before moving day and communicated these in detail to our mover. This included approved moving days and times, elevator reservation forms, maximum truck size and restrictions to the delivery access route. The mover ignored my instructions and our truck was turned back at the gate. It was too large to access the loading docks at our condo building. I’d like to hurl, that fresh-faced girl!

3…Held our breath: As the movers carried in our belongings, stuff was falling out of cartons because the cheap packing tape they used had come unglued. There were several deep gouges in our furniture, broken knobs on a custom hutch and my writing desk had been split open and glued back together. Such careless work! I went berserk!

4…Bossed the crew: Like a traffic cop, I directed movers to place furniture where I wanted it. I had them stack most of the boxes in areas less-used, like the spare bedroom and dining room. We kept our bedroom and kitchen as clear as possible. Don’t eat and sleep, under a heap! 

5…Held our ground: After unloading (a day late) the movers presented us with forms to sign. Despite the pressure, we signed for delivery only – and not for damages. It took us weeks to check everything as we unpacked – and then we duked it out for several months to settle our claim. Oh happy day! We made them pay!    

Give me a break! The morning after the move we ignored the mess – and took off for my sister’s cottage. The stacks of bloated boxes didn’t go away while we were gone. But we had time to escape the madness and refresh our sanity.

Reality bites: When we returned home, my desk was still in pieces on the floor, the knobs were still hacked off my dining room hutch, we had nowhere to put our big-ass TV, and my bunched-up wedding dress was still jammed in the jam cupboard. But I kept my chin up as I knuckled down and chanted my coping-mantra…this too shall pass…like noxious gas! 

See you between the lines and on Twitter @PatSkene                   

10 Tips for Mucking Out the Memories

The sequel to my Downsize This post.

So after that grisly marriage-blasting, nerve pinching experience of selling our big-ass house and downsizing our worldly attachments – here we are a year later happily ensconced in our condo. Thankfully, I no longer see that goggle-eyed, crazed woman staring back in the mirror.

Our little storage locker is chock-full of Christmas decorations, photo albums and fishing gear. Nothing else. It’s amazing how we boiled it all down to the bones and survived the madness. Do I miss the rest? Sometimes, but mostly there’s an incredible sense of relief; a simple freedom in de-cluttering our lives.

Top 10 things I learned:                              

1. Make a Floor Plan: We measured each piece of furniture and made cut-outs so we could move them around on the floor plan like a doll house. This was a great way to see what furniture would be the best fit in our new place. Warning: not recommended for sissies. Big screen TV’s and well-loved recliners may not be condo-worthy.

2. Test the size of your locker: Measure your locker and make an outline on the floor, like they do for dead bodies. After much pushing, pulling and pouting, we stacked the things we couldn’t part with in this space – like a precarious block of Lego’s. If it didn’t fit, it didn’t get on the moving truck. Proceed with caution: can be deadly to relationships.

3. No storage wars!Sometimes when the pushing, pulling and pouting didn’t work and we reached an impasse on what to keep, we were tempted to cheat and rent an off-site storage locker. Fortunately, our daughter arrived in full swat-gear to talk us down from the ledge. When it’s stored, it gets ignored!

4. Beware of auction houses! The two companies we used were shockingly dishonest by controlling bids to fall within their highest commission parameters – and by directing some sales to their friends – or to their spouses for resale in their own shops. Make a detailed list before you give them anything. Then kiss your assets good-bye.

5. Check your collectables:  We checked sculptures, paintings, carvings, china, etc., for signatures and markings – and tried to determine the value by checking the internet. A sort-of-do-it-ourselves ‘Antiques Road Show.’ The money’s in the details; the devil’s in the dark.

6. Get a long closing date would have given us time to sell more stuff online. As it was, we were pressured into hustling our belongings out the door, like unwanted houseguests. Remember the Rule of Three: a minimum of 3 months for closings and a maximum of 3 nights for visitors. Don’t get them confused!

7. Have a yard sale: This was a great way to recycle. We priced to sell, grouped similar items together and the bargain-pickers were lined up around the block. We sold everything! The boxes of “Free Stuff” we put at the end of the drive was a big hit. They took that too and saved us a trip to the dump. My garage runneth empty; my fanny-pack runneth full…of coins.

8. Hawk your stuff:  I made a list of everything I had for sale and emailed or handed it out to everyone I could. Friends, relatives, real estate contacts, trades people, the new buyers etc. I sold lots of stuff this way. Be bold. You’ve gotta tell to make it sell.

9. Book donations: Parting with books wasn’t easy. But a targeted donation can help to ease the pain of separation anxiety. For example, I donated several boxes of children’s books to a local Ronald MacDonald House, and a collection of creative writing books to my high-school teacher-niece, who made a special library for herself and her students. ‘Tis a far far better thing I do…than I have ever done hoarding my books.

10. Think Charities: These were great places to donate clothing and household goods. Many agencies picked up right at my door. Recycling and consignment shops were also good options, but they had lots of restrictions on what they would take. A bit of homework was needed, but worth the effort. So when in doubt, don’t throw it out.

Final word: While mucking out the memories was one of the most difficult things I have ever done, the memories themselves are surprisingly alive and kicking up dust bunnies. The good news is – I love that a lot of our stuff has been recycled to someone out there. The bad news is – I hate that a lot of our stuff has been recycled to someone out there. It all depends on the day.                                            

Now as I sit and write this rhyme,
I look back on those days in time,
Remembering how we were stressed,
And acting like two fools possessed.

So here’s the moral to my tale;
Don’t put your big-ass-house for sale!
Stay where you are until you’re dead,
The kids can muck it out instead.

See you between the lines and on Twitter @PatSkene

Check out my children’s books at www.pressheretostartpublishing.com

Downsize This!

The confessions of one woman’s trek through the perils of downsizing hell!

Have you ever seen an aging Boomer after the mind-numbing experience of shrinking a house into a condo? There’s a goggle-eyed, crazed look about the eyes that stays for months after the move. I see it with the new incomers here in our condo building. Happily, this stunned look seems to wane after a few months of swimming in the pool and watching someone else do the yard work.

Let’s get down to it: Okay, further to my post It’s Time to Sell, our house sold quickly. The next step was to snap on the rubber gloves and muck it out. So much stuff, so many memories, so little time.

Shocking secrets! I found this painful phase of downsizing a rollercoaster ride into perdition. There’s always one partner who is a collector of peculiarities, and in this case it isn’t me. Seriously! I’m not saying that my beloved Hubsey is an oddball, but rummaging through the darkest corners of our garage, we did uncover a collection of oddities that reflected his supreme oddness; like a large wooden-bin of coal, a case of moldy peach preserves circa 1922, a WWI bayonet with questionable stains on the blade, a well-used hookah pipe and a rather deflated looking blow-up doll. All these items had colourful stories screaming to be told. Unfortunately, they were dug out in deadly silence by our panic-stricken daughter and sniggering son-in-law, during a Saturday morning mucking-out-marathon.     

Painful stuff: As we sorted through the storyboard of our lives, a flood of memories washed over me, drowning out my sense of selection. How could we choose what things to take into our new life, and what to discard like abandoned puppies on a highway? Just how much could we squeeze into our condo and small storage locker? What were we to do with the gazillion tools in Hubsey’s workshop, the storage boxes stacked to the ceiling in the furnace room or the enormous pine box filled with old vinyl records? And would my new condo have space for my eleven rocking chairs? (Okay, so maybe I have some oddities too.) 

Shrinking our piles: We asked our only daughter to rummage through the pickings and take what she wanted. But the poor girl could only haul away so much – until sadly, her garage looked like ours did. The piles just weren’t going down fast enough, and our dreaded closing date was looming large! Short of finding a super-duper vat of Preparation H – nothing was going to magically shrink those piles. Fraught with emotions and the pure physical challenges of back-breaking work, we wanted desperately to turn back the clock and wake up from this nightmare. My sagely advice at this stage of the horror show is to do what I did: dig down deep, cry yourself to sleep and jump in with both feet!  This is going to hurt!
                                            We made our bed…and so we sleep,
                                            Our memories are running deep,
                                            It’s only stuff, we tend to say,
                                            But still it’s hard to give away.

                                            And as we buckle down to work,  
                                            We try hard not to go berserk,
                                            There’ll be a story here to tell, 
                                            If we survive downsizing-hell. 

Check out my next post Mucking Out the Memories for the scoop on how we did it.

See you between the lines and on Twitter @PatSkene

                                        

Scary World of Aging

As I flap around in my post-retirement years, I’m not happy about getting older. But when I consider the deathly alternative, I tend to buckle up and dig in. 

Brave new world: Last year Hubsey and I sold our home and moved into our first condo. Why we’re still married after going through the grueling experience of downsizing hell, is something of a mystery. We had so much stuff – all his old junk and my priceless collectables.  Well, we lived to tell the tale and now enjoy the comforts of our beautiful condo – despite being surrounded by a gaggle of cotton heads, dictatorial condo boards and antiquated rules. After decades in the corporate jungle, I’ve seen enough office politics to strangle a condor. So I plan to ruffle some of those dusty old condo-condor feathers. Old farts in corporate boardrooms and old farts on condo boards are all the same to me. To be continued so stay tuned…   

Scary stuff! This mysterious aging process can be almost as frightening as buying a new bathing suit. And besides the whole emotional gridlock of downsizing – how do I handle my husband losing his driver’s license due to a stroke? How do I cope with chronic illness, old bones and the shocking reality of my white hair? And what do I do when I discover Blackbeard’s whiskers popping out on my chin – or other unsuspecting body parts? And do I accept or reject the irresistible lure and blissful come-hither comfort of wearing granny panties and orthopedic shoes?

Make it Personal

Although I must admit we had a good agent, most real estate people are not known for their imaginations. They follow a routine set of cookie-cutter steps to sell houses.  There’s a lot about every home that remains hidden from view. So it’s up to us – the sellers – to take charge and bring these special features into focus.

In my Post – It’s Time to Sell – I talked about painting a picture for my prospective buyers by writing a list of things I liked about my home. I wanted people to picture themselves there, enjoying the good life.

I placed a stack of these personal letters beside the real estate feature sheets, for buyers to take away. I made it short, easy to read, with lots of white space and all on one page. It was a big hit with buyers and proved to be the single most important selling tool we had toward getting multiple prospects and a quick sale. 

Good luck with selling your home. If you try this selling technique, remember to make it brief, be truthful and appeal to the emotionl side of buying a house – by drawing from your gut.    

It’s Time to Sell

Okay, so we made the decision to downsize and sell our home over a cup of tea one morning. The time was right. The house was too big, the kids were too far, the drive was too long and life was too short. So a condo near the kids was the answer. We toasted our good judgment with an extra spoon of brown sugar on our oatmeal. Easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy.

Pushy kids: Our daughter had pushed for this decision for a while, but we dug our heels in until we were stuck in the muck. And now it was time to muck it out; all 4200 square feet of house, 2 garages, Hubsey’s workshop and furnace room – every inch chock full of dusty memories. We had lots of de-mucking to do to squeeze into a condo.

But I digress – first step – SELL OUR BIG-ASS HOUSE.  I’m happy to report that we hired an excellent real estate agent that we trusted, and our home sold in one week! Here’s my take on selling tips that matter. 

The 6 things NO real estate agent will tell you:

1…Use your head. While you need to de-clutter and make your rooms appear spacious and appealing, don’t remove all your family photos and personal mementos. Who thought up that asinine trend anyway? Any prospective buyers who can’t picture themselves in your home because your family photos are on the mantle, are too stupid to buy the house in the first place. Don’t get pushed around by the so-called professionals in the field.

2…Forget expensive staging.This home is yours to sell and you don’t need someone else’s stuff to do that. Another real estate ruse. You know what needs to be done. Do minor repairs and spruce up the place with a touch of paint. For a few hundred dollars, you can add lots of light coloured accents to give the rooms a clean fresh feel; like crisp white bedding, fresh flowers, soft cream sofa pillows, comfy throws – and breezy white sheer curtains on an open window. And don’t forget to spa-up your bathroom with stacks of fluffy white towels, scented candles and fancy soaps.

3…Air it out. Agents find it hard to tell you that your house smells. Open windows long before a showing and burn a Lampe Berger if you have one. They work wonders. Buyers shouldn’t have to wonder if the lingering aromas are from the corned beef and cabbage you had for dinner or a dead body between the walls. But don’t overdo the air-fresheners.  People may think you’re trying to hide something.

4…Write a personal letter. Word-paint a picture for your buyers by writing a list of things you love about your home. Be creative and appeal to the emotions. This personal touch had a HUGE impact on creating multiple buyer interest in our home – and the resulting quick sale. Place a stack of these letters beside the real estate feature sheets. See my Post – Make it Personal  for an example of what I did.

5…Get help from St. Joseph. Now for something totally nuts! But I did it anyway. This is how it works; you purchase a small statue of St. Joseph and you bury him upside down in the yard, just below the surface. (Stay with me on this.) Place him near the For Sale sign and watch the buyers flock to your home. P.S…in my case, nothing happened after a few days, so I poured a pitcher of icy water on the burial spot to shake & wake him up. My house sold 3 days later…so you decide.        

6…No Open House showings. In my opinion, if someone wants to see your house, they should damn well make an appointment. Why should you allow every Tom, Dick and burglar to walk around and case the joint? Don’t fall for it! They’re a waste of time and a security threat. Agents like to use your home as an advertising platform for new business, and to make you feel like they’re earning their commission – which is another issue altogether. You deserve respect in your own home and as such, scheduled appointments with appropriate lead time is only fair – and the safe thing to do.       

Last word: Now top it all off with some classical music and a plate of bite-sized store-bought cookies on the counter and you’re good to go. (Bite-sized because you don’t want crumbs all over your house.) You should leave during the showings to give your prospective buyers privacy to look around – without you breathing down their cheque books. And make sure you get a minimum of 3 months for your closing date. You’re going to need it for the next step…mucking out the memories.

Happy Sales from Pat Skene