They brought the wrong carpet, and then...

The joys of solo remodeling

If you looked toward South Beach, Oregon Thursday night, you might have seen the steam coming out the top of my head. Have you ever tried to reschedule a FedEx delivery? Good luck with that.

One of the problems with living alone is there’s nobody else to deal with repairs and deliveries.

Let me back up. As of my last post, I had gotten my living room and hallway painted, with help from my neighbors. On Tuesday, the carpet installers arrived. One worker didn’t speak English at all, the other just a little, but they were fast. In a few minutes, they had moved most of my furniture out onto my deck, putting the piano in the kitchen where it blocked the way to the den and garage. But I could still get to my office.

Soon the noise and allergy-triggering smells sent me outside. It was foggy but warm enough, so I worked out there, tiptoeing into the house now and then to check progress.

Around 11:30 am., they seemed to be laying down the carpet. Ooh, let’s take a look.

It was not the carpet I ordered. It was white. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Stop. It’s the wrong color,” I told the guy who doesn’t speak English. He shrugged and kept cutting.

I found the other guy. “Wrong carpet!” I showed him my paperwork. He frowned and pulled out his cell phone.

Many calls later, the correct carpet was located back at the store, and they left to pick it up. I don’t know what happened to the white carpet that had already been cut to fit my house. Another customer was surely expecting it. Odds are it was ruined.

While they were gone, I thought I could sneak a quick lunch–if I could get past the closet doors they had laid against the counter.

I had just made a sandwich when the garage door repairman called. He was on his way. Early. Did I mention the door broke on Saturday, my first day of painting?

Yikes. So, I crammed down my sandwich–veggie burger with mozzarella cheese–as I watched Jack, the garage door guy, huff and puff as he went up and down my ladder in my dark garage because the light decided not to work that day.

The carpet guys returned, complaining about Jack’s truck blocking the driveway. I got a stomachache and let the men work it out.

Eventually, the door was fixed, Jack was $150 richer, and the carpet guys were installing the correct carpet. They left little tufts of old, new, and incorrect carpet all over my house and driveway, and one of them got blood on my newly white wall. He must have cut himself. I would have given him a bandage! Luckily, it washed off.

But they were fast. And the carpet in the photo is the correct carpet.

Finally, finally, I had my house to myself. The new paint and new carpet looked gorgeous. But now my ratty furniture looked bad. High on carpet fumes, I got online and ordered a new loveseat and armchair with matching ottoman from Home Depot, which is 70 miles from here. Free delivery. Oh boy oh boy. My room was going to look so good.

When my neighbors, the ones who helped me paint, invited me to their Tuesday pizza night with their young friends, I gratefully accepted. I was so happy to have my house looking pretty and all to myself I even drank a glass of wine–a no-no with my meds. My face was on fire and I couldn’t sleep that night, but I was still a happy woman.

I spent the next two days selectively putting stuff back in place. Anything I no longer loved or that didn’t suit the new look went into the trash or the charity pile.

Then, last night, when I went to shut off my computer, I saw a message from Home Depot. Congrats, your stuff is coming sooner than expected, like Saturday, the one day of the week that does not work for me because I play the piano and sing at the Saturday vigil Mass.

After five phone calls to robots at Home Depot and FedEx, I was not able to change the delivery date. Also, I learned that the furniture is coming in pieces. Assembly required. Lots of assembly. No!!!! I don’t want to build a sofa and loveseat. Yes, it was in the fine print. I missed it as I obsessed over color and style.

Home Depot claims to have connections with “local pros” who might assemble the furniture for me. During working hours, I will call about that. I just want someone to slide my new furniture into place, where I will sit on it and enjoy my fabulous decorating skill. I also would like someone to take away the old sofa and loveseat.

Why didn’t I go to the local furniture store, which delivers fully formed furniture? Because I got excited and jumped too quickly. I assumed the big orange Home Depot truck would arrive next week and a couple burly guys would smile and say, “Where do you want it, ma’am?”

Don’t buy major furniture online. Just don’t.

Apparently, once Home Depot ships an item, they wash their hands of it. Delivery? Not their problem. Assembly? Nope, not their problem. Here’s an 800 number you can call.

My furniture is coming from FedEx in four boxes, presumably very large boxes. The FedEx guys are not allowed to come into a person’s house. What if you can’t lift hundreds of pounds? What if it’s raining? This is the Oregon coast. The deck was wet when I got up this morning.

This Substack is meant to be inspiring and informative, and I know this post is not. I thought all I had left to do was hang pictures, refill the China cabinet, get my discards to the dump, and wait for my furniture to arrive.

I am disgusted with “customer service” that is all pre-programmed bots that don’t really help. But I will get past this. I will ask FedEx to put the boxes in my garage where I can deal with them on my own schedule instead of having them in my new living room demanding immediate attention. I will ask for all the help I can get. Neighbors. Assembly pros. Guys who take stuff to the dump.

Yes, I can probably build a loveseat and easy chair, but I don’t want to. I want to get back to my real life, where I eat, sleep, pray, exercise, make music, read, write, watch TV, and love dogs. I did not sign up to build furniture.

It could be worse. A friend had surgery yesterday to remove a large mass that was just discovered on her ovary. It could be cancer. That’s worse. Way worse.

This is just furniture.

But now I know why it took 27 years to get around to renovating my living room. Change is exhausting.

Lessons

• When you’re getting anything done on the house, stick around to watch, even if they give you stink-eye and suggest you go elsewhere. I hate to think what would have happened if the wrong carpet had already been nailed down and finished before I saw it.

• Get excited about purchasing new things but sleep on it before you hit “buy now.”

• Shop local, shop local, shop local.

• Read the fine print. Always check whether your purchase comes assembled. If it’s being delivered, find out by whom and when.

• Demand a tracking number. FedEx’s robots hung up on me twice because I didn’t have the number and kept asking where to find it. They’re not set up for that question. Turns out I have four tracking numbers, one for each box. Jorge, an actual live Home Depot person, gave them to me. Why aren’t they on the paperwork? When I did finally give FedEx a tracking number and said I needed to reschedule, the robot basically said tough beans, it’s coming Saturday.

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  How did I end up alone? My first marriage ended in divorce. My second husband died of Alzheimer’s after we had moved to the Oregon coast, far from family. I never had any kids, only dogs. Now I live by myself in a big house in the woods. You can read our story in my memoir, No Way Out of This: Loving a Partner with Alzheimer’s, available at your favorite bookseller. Visit https://www.suelick.com

  for information on all of my books.