THE GREAT FLOOD OF ’18, PART 3

Then it was Friday morning. Mike left for an appointment in Spokane, and I called Adjuster Tim and told him about the reported mold. He said he would call our local insurance company and get back to me. Ten minutes later he called with the name of another local mitigation company. “They expect to hear from you soon, so call them immediately, but you are under no obligation to employ this company. The choice is yours.”

So, I called the company, and they said they already knew of my situation. A representative would call me back very soon, she said. That happened, and “Mike” and I agreed to meet at the farmhouse later in the morning. (Yes, yet another Mike; I’ll call him “Big Mike.”)

When it comes to handling the business, my Mike is my hero, but here I was driving to the farm again to handle yet another meeting on this important problem. I changed my clothes, put Nellie in the kennel, loaded Bess in the Dakota, and off we went.

As Big Mike drove up to the farmhouse in his big pick-up, I noticed the words “mold removal” clearly displayed. He said mold was to be expected and he would not need an “industrial specialist.” He was pleasant and thorough. The damage is even more extensive than we had feared, but my initial feeling was that I had found the right company. Big Mike remarked, “When you said this house was 100 years old, I said to myself, ‘Oh boy, here we go again,’ but this place is just beautiful.”

“If you hire me,” Big Mike continued, “I become your contractor and see the project through from beginning to end.” He explained that he does only insurance work. We (my Mike and I) need not do a thing – only what we want to do. He would start by packing up contents. His finish carpenter would remove the old wood, such as original baseboards, and recondition it. He, too, mentioned the beautiful texturing of the walls and said he thought his person could match it. He said that anything that is damaged cannot be put back. He would come to us when decisions need to be made.

REALLY? – Well, let me just think about this. We didn’t expect to re-do the house – ever – but now that we have to, I DO have a few changes in mind.

Yeah – too bad about Grandma Ina’s maple floors. Believe me, I can just imagine her displeasure and disappointment. (She talks in my imagination, you know.) The floors were a great conversation piece and told the story of a century, but – oh, well! Out with the old, in with the new, and there’s something to be said for new. We have dogs, mice, dirt and dust. Let’s have something we can clean because those unsealed hardwood floors have been a lazy housewife’s nightmare. Let’s have a floor that can withstand use and get rid of the rugs. WooHoo!

Oh! And those custom oak cabinets in the kitchen. Well, I’d like white tongue-in-groove, but the original contractor and cabinetmaker talked me out of it.

“A painted cabinet,” questioned Big Mike in the same tone I’ve heard before.

“Yes,” I said, sticking to my guns. “This is a farmhouse. A farmhouse kitchen should be white tongue-in-groove.” So, we discussed options. If the damage isn’t extensive, maybe just new cabinet doors. Yes, I can see that. Or, maybe new cabinets will be in order. Time will tell.

Since my Mike wasn’t there, Big Mike suggested we meet with him at his Clarkston office to go over things together, and we arranged an appointment for Monday. The work would begin in about ten days, he said. KW

THE GREAT FLOOD OF ’18, PART 2

Is there mold here?

Early Thursday, we began to talk to Insurance Adjuster Tim out of Denver, who gave us the go-ahead to contact a mitigation company. We called the first on the list, a franchise. Mike had commitments both Thursday and Friday, so I heard him say into his phone, “I can’t possibly go today or tomorrow,” and then I heard myself saying, “I could go,” and an appointment was arranged for noon. And then a field adjuster out of Boise (Greg) called and said he could be there by 2:00. And so, I was off to handle the first evaluations by myself.

Daffoldils bloom; lilacs just leafing out

Two young “clean-up” men arrived during the noon hour, and together we surveyed the damage. (They were workers; the company boss stayed in town.)

They said they would get started and that I could leave. No, I wouldn’t be leaving, I said, so I puttered around the yard and pulled rhubarb, which is growing beautifully – one of my successes.

“Oh no, there’s mold here,” I heard one of them exclaim, and they went into panic mode. They said they couldn’t continue until the job was certified safe by a “hygienic specialist.” No one in Lewiston could help me, they said. I could probably find someone in Spokane. I was undaunted because – well – I just didn’t think they were the right people for the job in the first place.

House from the pond

Before the workers left, Field Adjuster Greg pulled in, and the situation of “possible” mold was explained to him. I could see he was unphased. “Call Tim the Adjuster,” said Greg. “He’s a good guy; he’ll advise you on next steps.” Greg spent half an hour assessing the damage and taking pictures.

“Whoever textured these walls did a beautiful job,” said Greg, and I proudly explained that Mike and I learned to texture and did the whole house ourselves. “Well, this time you’ll hire it done,” he said.

"Volunteer" daffodils bloom in the grove

He also commented that I could have whatever I want -- that I'm not obligated to match what was there before. For example, I don't need to replace the hardwood floors with hardwood. Hmmm.

Then he, too, was gone. So, I took my rhubarb, drove back to town, and baked our favorite rhubarb cake. Over supper that night, I said to Mike, “I’ll tell you exactly how I feel about this house project.” He looked startled with a touch of concern. “I’m excited!” KW

THE GREAT FLOOD OF ’18, PART 1

Okay – Yes. I’ve been away from this blog for several days. Problems arose, and the muse is only now ready to talk about it.

When Mike and I, with the blessing of our children, decided to rehabilitate my grandparents’ farmhouse, some friends and family thought it was a big mistake, but we decided to do it for a variety of reasons, including:

1)   A beautiful, peaceful location

2)   A “togetherness” project for our retirement years

3)   Preservation of heritage

4)   An opportunity to be stewards of the land

So, beginning in 1998, we pressed ahead, and we have loved working together “for better or for worse,” and this last week we had a dose of “for worse.” We built creature comforts into our house, running water for one ...

Living room into dining room

. . . and while we were looking the other way, the water ran, and ran, and ran. Long story short, a leak occurred, apparently at the shower faucet in the master bath, and the walls through the central part of the house are soaked. Grandma Ina’s hardwood floors (dining and living rooms) are ruined. Kitchen cabinets are damaged. The full extent of the damage has yet to be assessed.

The daffodils are undaunted by the problems of the day.

We found this problem on Wednesday (April 26), and our first reaction was guilt and devastation. Mike made an initial call to our insurance company, but he and I agreed that we would have to find good help. I began to silently express my gratitude for lasting values. This debacle was unexpected but not insurmountable, and we can both deal with it. We worked hard to clean up what water we could, and then we closed the door on the farmhouse and drove back to town. Tomorrow would be another day. KW