An Accident Waiting to Happen

When I was preparing to buy this house, the home inspector commented about the front steps. They were 80 years old and the mortar was barely holding them together. Someone had repaired them at one (or more) point(s), but it had not held. The inspector said they had to be repaired.

For the past year-and-a-half, I have been living in constant fear of someone stepping onto the steps and falling backwards as the bricks gave way. I was certain a lawsuit was just around the corner.

The Jazzman did some research and called Chuck Hyde of Leonelli Remodeling. Leonelli sent some of their people over yesterday, and I now have beautiful new steps. Next week I will have a beautiful new column (or two) on the front porch, devoid of decades of wood rot.

But I made one minor error. Yesterday was a lovely day—and by that I mean not cold. I threw open the windows in my bedroom and the babes' bedroom. Then I went into the small bedroom my office to begin my day's work. I didn't think about the work that is involved in demolishing aged mortar before applying new mortar.

I heard some grinding and ran downstairs to look out the front door. The air around the front door was thick with dust. Again, I didn't engage my brain and think about my bedroom. Then I heard grinding in the back, and noticed the air around the back door was thick with dust as one of the workers repaired the brick walls on either side of my back stairs.

A couple of hours later, starting to think about the ramifications, I walked into my bedroom and trailed my fingers across the dresser. Oops. Big oops! My dresser and everything sitting on it is coated with dust. I haven't stopped to look at my nightstand or the nightstand on the other side of the bed. Or the floor. Or the armoire.

I'm just grateful for the fact that Monday is my cleaning lady's day. I can stick my head in the sand—er, dust—and let her deal with it.

Oh, and I'm grateful for my beautiful new front stairs.