I have a love-hate relationship with my house! There, I’ve said it. If we’re honest, I bet most of us share that sentiment. However, rarely do I hear people say they hate their house. On the contrary, most often I hear how much folks love their dwelling place. Sure, I love my house when friends are over and the fireplace provides a warm and inviting backdrop for our friendly conversations. And I love sitting in the backyard when the regal dogwood debuts in an elaborate spring dress of pure white flowers signaling its elite status in the garden. Oh how I savor the “oohs” and “aahs” from my neighbors!

But I hate it when the metal railing needs to be painted and my intentions are to do so but a couple years go by and I watch the rust grow on the railing ‘til the only hope is a professional that will salvage it and reverse the neglect (are you feeling fatigued, yet?). Yes, sooner or later neglect comes calling.

I remember the day I sat on the verandah of the home across the street visiting with my neighbors, Kathy and Paul. Looking back at my home across the street, I became fixated on what appeared to be a missing shingle on my roof. I said, “Paul, does that look like a missing shingle on my roof?” I was so agitated I made him retrieve his binoculars. Sure enough, those things don’t lie: I had a missing roof shingle.

Freaking out, I left the good company of my neighbors and called a roofing company immediately. My orders were to not only replace the shingle, but to inspect the entire roof for other loose or missing culprits.

For weeks I wondered just what might have happened if I hadn’t been across the street looking back at my house. It’s the part of home ownership that makes me crazy. I’m forever wondering what might be lurking in the walls, under the ground, or anywhere invisible to the naked eye. And in this climate, one word is enough to terrify any homeowner: WATER. Yes, I am paranoid about water and just where it is running around in my house. I figure if I remain paranoid and on top of every little creak, ghost and demon, I might (just might!) get out of this house someday with everything intact and functioning. And I might (just might) walk away with a shirt on my back and shoes on my feet. Maintaining a home is not my natural instinct. Although I manage, it is definitely not my comfort zone.

Recently I heard the saga of selling a home that made me ask, “Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we want to punish ourselves like this? Why aren’t we living in tents (or at least a friendly commune where everything is taken care of)?

Here’s the saga: my friend was tired of home ownership. The house was too big and the garden too much work. He called his realtor and set in motion the sale of his house, which triggered the obligatory visits from an appraiser and an inspector. The inspector said the roof was faulty. How could that be?

The roof had been replaced only three months earlier. A meeting of all the players (i.e. a representative from the company that manufactured the roof material, the installer, the realtors, the buyer and the seller) at the same time and place seemed the best possible way to address questions. Any concerned

party who wished to inspect the roof in question, could do so. The meeting occurred and, wouldn’t you know it, the roof was no longer an issue. As my friend testified, the roof had indeed been replaced and installed correctly and there was a warranty in place.

But we still have to inspect the sewer, folks. The Roto-Rooter couldn’t get through the side sewer, so it was determined that a “cleanout” needed to be installed. This involved digging up the backyard and a portion of the neighbor’s backyard. Naturally, this did not solve the problem. The bad news: a segment of the sewer was so clogged that the whole section of pipe needed to be replaced. Commence more

digging. After two weeks of tireless work, finally the yard was tidied and ready to go forward with the sale. The buyer now went back to the mortgage company to pursue the loan only to be told that the house would need to be re-assessed since two months had gone by and the house may have changed in value. Exhausting.

For now, I am still in my house. But I often contemplate what life will be like when I choose to leave it. First, I hope I leave graciously (and shirted and shod). I hope I leave thankful for the years I’ve spent in my home; for the shelter it has provided; for the memories I created with friends and family, and the stories that marked the years. I hope I leave it spotless for the next occupant: scrubbed woodwork, painted walls, cleaned carpets, and sparkling windows.

And this is near to my heart: of course I want to leave a friendly garden that will provide the sanctuary and solitude I’ve so enjoyed. My home and garden are sacred spaces for me, worthy of the many unique friends, family and visitors who spend time and break bread with me.

When I leave for the last time, I hope I will close the door and turn the key with a respect and reverence for the structure I’ve called home. I will then turn my sights on what is next. For most of us it is an apartment in a retirement home and I can confidently tell you I will be among them. Having worked in retirement housing for so many years, I am looking forward to opening an apartment door onto a blank canvas. I’m eager to create again a smaller, more manageable but equally inviting space for myself and all who visit me.

The great thing about a retirement community is that beyond the walls of my apartment are so many shared spaces to spend time and break bread with friends and family—in essence, my home will be a larger, not smaller place.

Of course, all that fretting over missing roof shingles, sewer problems, rusted railings, and the myriad of other homeownership issues will no longer be mine. I will meet new people and make new friends, I will feel a sense of safety and security, and as so many studies now show, I will live a long and happy life thanks to the direct health benefits of being in a truly social environment.

Happily, home maintenance, cooking, cleaning and housekeeping will belong to someone else. I will spend my day reading, and discussing the latest news events with new found table mates. I will get the latest Lego kit and invite my grandkids to help put it together. I will sit with those whose losses are recent and who are in need of revisiting cherished memories. I will find a trail to explore. It will be a different home than the one I left, but it will beckon with a sense of happy promise and adventure.

I, for one, am going to be up for it.

Chris’ Corner is sponsored by Chateau Bothell Landing

If you would like information about Chateau Bothell Landing or to schedule a tour and free lunch, please call Community Relations Director Mary Benz or RobFinley at 425.485.1155 or email Mary. Benz@chateaullc.com. Visit our website at www. chateau-bothell-landing.com