A Fistful Of Dollars

Here’s what the chimney sweep had to say: neither of the flues (one for the fireplace, one for the furnace) are lined. This we knew. Neither of them are safe to use unlined. This we didn’t know. This means we shouldn’t even have our heat on, or we’re risking… what? I’m not entirely clear on this point.

I see what he's saying and all about how a stray spark from the fireplace could go through a loose bit in the masonry and wind up lighting the attic on fire. That part I get. I wish I hadn't heard it, but I get it. But there shouldn't be sparks going up the furnace flue, right? I mean — right? I mean, if there are sparks going up the furnace flue, haven't we got bigger problems than the lack of a chimney liner? (And, having said that, I knock wood and bite my tongue, because lord knows if I speak of the devil he kicks his way straight through the goddamn door.)

So whatever. Okay. Apparently it isn’t “safe” to have our heat on. But guess what? It’s on. Just like it has been for the last hundred freaking years since the house was freaking built. And if it isn’t safe to have the heat on but yet it is on, then what’s stopping me from lighting a fire in the fireplace? It’s not any less safe than it was yesterday, when I didn’t know this, right? I mean — right?

What he said to us exactly was “You could have ten thousand fires in that fireplace and never have a problem — or you could have one and burn the house down.”

What I have not yet mentioned (because it chokes me to think about it), but which I hope explains my weighing the relative merits of risking burning down the house, is that he quoted us a price to make it right – meaning safe, meaning up to fucking code, meaning five thousand, one hundred and twenty-five dollars. That’s $5125, for those of you skimming ahead.

Wa-freakin’-hoo.

Oh, hell. I have a credit card with a $6000 limit and a zero balance – a zero balance which I have carefully cultivated over the past however-many years by first paying down the balance that was on it and then paying the bill in full every month after that; a zero balance that has itself earned me the $6000 limit that is on the card. But I do have that card, with its $6000 limit and its zero balance, and I also have the one-in-ten-thousand chance of burning down my house. And so I have to ask myself: am I feeling lucky?

Well, am I?

Yeah, not so much. Not really.

No.

Chim Chim Char-eewww!

Okay, so I took the car in and they said it's not the brake fluid but the water pump that's leaking (and the transmission fluid and the oil pan but those, apparently, can wait). It'll cost $245 to fix it, and I have to fix it or my engine will blow. Well, that's better than a brake job, I guess.

We called the fireplace store before driving down there, to make sure there really was such a thing as magic flue powder - and it's a good thing we did. They said there was such a thing and they had it, but they wouldn't sell it to us to use ourselves. They will, however, sell us them coming over and using it for us, for only $345. No thanks.

We'll just keep sitting here waiting for the chimney sweep who was supposed to be here an hour and a half ago. He's only charging $278, maybe he'll show up - and maybe he'll even sweep the chimney when he does. In the meantime, Johnny has decided he's going to buy some brushes and do it himself from now on after this. Then nobody will be able to tell us that it's not up to code - and what we don't know can't hurt us, right? Chim-chim-charoo!

Johnny says the reason you shake a chimney sweep's hand for luck is that the soot is evidence of honest work - honest money, honestly earned - and if it rubs off on you, well then that's lucky too. I should shake this fella's hand as many times as he'll let me. If he ever shows up, that is.

All right, while I'm waiting I might as well give a nutshell version of my life these past few years. Johnny's Dublin Irish, I'm Massachusetts American. We are one of those stupid couples who got caught up in the Supermarket Sweep that was the housing boom a couple years ago, as well as one of those even stupider couples who thought it would be a good idea to buy an older house for less money and fix it up to earn what is so charmingly referred to as sweat equity.

So far we've had not just sweat but blood and plenty of tears as well (and they don't award extra equity for either one of those), plus bronchial infections, regular old infections, tetanus scares and broken bones. And those are just the bodily insults. Our psyches have suffered cheats and liars, rude neighbors and crazy contractors, coke-addled electricians, spiders and spiders and spiders and spiders, projects that never end and other projects that go awry before they even start. This chimney thing? The fourth in a series of chimney things that started before we moved in, with our paying one of Johnny's friends to do a simple repointing job that he was supposed to have been doing as repayment of a favor. That was Johnny's fault, and I'll stand on my head on the dining room table and say so. But this, though, this is just the house, fucking with us.

He just showed up. The chimney sweep. I shook his hand. It was limp and cold and clammy. I don't see how that could possibly be a good sign...

PIa

Today the chimney sweep came and said he couldn't sweep the chimney because it isn't up to code, that it would cost us two and a half grand to bring it up to code, and that whoever swept it last time really didn't, so we're about an inch away from a chimney fire. He advised us to get someone less conscientious than him to go ahead and sweep it, then we can sue them when the house burns down.

Um, are there any other alternatives?

It turns out there are. We can go buy this powder that you put up the flue with a little fire going and it whisks you away to an alternate universe where everything always goes according to plan and there are never any unplanned-for expenses. Oh no wait, that's something I read in a book somewhere or something. This real-world flue powder apparently just loosens up the gunk in the chimney, thereby reducing your chances of a chimney fire by, like, whole tens of percentage points.

The store that sells the magic powder is closed now, so we're going to go buy it first thing tomorrow. Johnny's not working (which is one thing I never thought I'd be thankful for), so when we get the powder he can light the fire and do it straight away. Because we also made an appointment for tomorrow afternoon with a different and, we hope, less ethical chimney sweep (another thing I never imagined would be good). In the meantime we've shut the heat down as low as humanely possible, and I'm about to commence to drinking...

I'm sorry, should I back up a bit? Okay, let's see: Yesterday I discovered that our mortgage payment has gone up by $100 a month. Last week I learned the car needs brakes. Last month we were informed we need a furnace. And, at the very tail end of last year: a new roof.

I just called the bank. They say our balance is the brake job and one month of extra mortgage payment. Maybe two, if I can get away with just the front brakes.

I'll back up farther and explain more some other time. Right now, I've already commenced to commencing and so I'd better go. The last time I commenced while I was on the computer, I spilled beer on the keyboard and haven't been able to type a capital "a" ever since. (I can get one, by letting the computer do it automatically, but it's a big pain in the a...)