Window conundrum

The problem with shopping for one window…is what do you do about the rest of them?  Our current windows are the original, wooden, double-hung windows.  They have what I believe is called a "dog ear" on the top sash.  Cute.  Not efficient. Some are painted shut. And sadly, several are in bad repair.  As this house was in foreclosure, quite a bit of maintenance had been deferred—i.e., the house had been neglected.

 Leaky window

When I was confronted with the leaking kitchen window, I opted to remove the whole bump-out—presumably, the roof flashing was what was leaking.   

Since the sides of the house are stucco, we had to tear out the framing and make a new window surround (which will eventually hold the window).  Don is doing this part, since Lalo and I would have no idea where to start.  Though I guess that would be the demo part.  We seem to be good at that part. Nevertheless, leaving this to the pro.

 Big hole in the house!

But what kind of window do you get when you only are going to replace one?  Well, some of the windows are in rough shape—particularly the southern-facing ones, due to all that beautiful California sunshine.  I figured I was a year or two away from replacing all or some of the windows.  If I had to buy one now, I'd better have a plan for the rest of the replacements.

I met with a couple of window replacement companies.  One of them was really good at his job.  And the next thing I knew, I was ordering all 19 windows and a sliding door.  What can I say? He made me an offer I couldn't refuse.  I'm looking forward to my new energy-efficient windows and trying not to think about the money.  The manufacturer is Anlin and they have a lifetime warranty (for the house's life, not mine—you're welcome, future owners!).

I’ll be sad to see the old divided lights go.  The mullions in vinyl replacement windows look so cheesy I opted out.  But in the long run, I feel like it's the most responsible choice. The best part? When I open a window, I won't have to worry about the sash falling apart anymore.

Razing the roof

I undertook my first major house project right before we moved in last December. The roof was actively leaking, and we were at the beginning of another SoCal rainy season. Because the house was a foreclosure, the bank that owned it was completely unwilling to fix anything. In fact, the lending department at the very same institution made me jump through all kinds of hoops because of the leaky roof. In case you can't tell, I'm still a little bitter about it.  Hopefully I'll be over it by the time you move in, but no promises. Everything you have heard about the dysfunctional banking system of the "great recession" (or whatever you come to call it by the time people are driving around in flying cars) is completely true.

The original cedar shakes were still on the roof (beneath several layers of asphalt shingles), so the whole shebang had to be torn off and new plywood and roofing installed.  Be glad this didn't happen on your watch! It's very expensive and messy.  We got lucky with the weather, and no rain fell into the attic while the house was open to the elements. 

View from the back yard before the roof was replaced

We thought about installing a "cool roof," but decided against it.  It would have been a good deal more expensive, and the roofer had a low opinion of its effectiveness. Since I was already spending more money than I'm comfortable writing about, we went with a composite shingle. I chose light grey because the color reflects more light and is cooler in the summer.  I'm not sure why anyone would install a black roof in this climate, but it happens with surprising frequency.

It took about three days for the roofers to completely strip and replace the roof.  The same day they finished it, we started moving in. Diogy was decidedly unhappy about the whole affair.  It seems she doesn't like change.  It took a couple of weeks for her to adjust to her new digs.  There was a lot of cowering in the back seat of the car and reluctance to come inside. My BFF Kelly said this was a clear indication that the house is haunted.  It's not. Unless you're reading this so far in the future that I am now haunting your house. However, I like to think I'm looking down from above. In addition to all the perks of heaven, I'd have a good view of that roof.