Bill Conrad's Blog - Posts Tagged "cleaning"
Cleaning Out the Condo
My parents own a tiny Palm Springs condominium, about a 90-minute drive from their house. It is a fun getaway; typically, they use the place five times while my wife, daughter, and I go twice.
Some condo problems have occurred over the past 30 years. The primary issue is that nobody permanently stays there, and all dwellings need regular maintenance—especially the plants. So, spending at least three hours cleaning and repairing is mandatory. On many occasions, I spent the entire weekend repairing.
About fifteen years ago, the problems were so bad that a major renovation was necessary. My brother-in-law was out of work then, and my parents paid him to do the remodel. He is a licensed building contractor, and this arrangement benefited everybody.
Now, I must take a side tangent. My brother-in-law is very good at his job, and I have learned much about construction from him. One of his biggest lessons is, “You never know what you are in for until you open the walls. So, open the walls before you start.” A good example of this philosophy came from an estimate he worked on for renovating the El Cortez Hotel.
Every city has landmarks, and one of the famous downtown ones in San Diego is El Cortez. It has a massive neon sign that can be seen for miles. The owners decided to change it from a hotel to a high-end condominium. They brought in three contractors for estimates, including my brother-in-law.
The other two were dressed in slick business suits and only spoke in generalizations, while my brother-in-law dressed in jeans and quietly observed everything like a hawk.
They came to one room, and he said, “So, this place is going to be remodeled?” “Yes.” “Alright, let’s open a well.” “Why?” the owner asked. “You do not need to do that,” one contractor remarked. “Look, I need to see what’s in here. You have to get rid of all the drywall anyway. Right?” “Umm, I suppose,” answered the owner. Quick as lightning, my brother-in-law whips out a utility knife and slices a ten-foot-wide cut into the drywall. He peeled it away, and it came crashing down. Everybody is stunned.
“Kind of what I expected. Look, this wiring all needs to go. But that is not the worst part. You have a pipe going through a load-bearing wall.” “Is that a problem?” the owner asked. “If other rooms are like this, it will cost you double.” The other contractors were stunned. “This is going to be a massive job. I have seen all I need to see in this room. Let’s look at the elevators.” “Why?” another contractor asked. “I am betting they need to be replaced.”
They went to the elevator room, and my brother-in-law said, “Yup, as I suspected. You need to install brand-new elevators. Because this is a sixteen-floor building, five million each.” “What!!! Is he right?” the owner asked one contractor. “Oh, well, umm, you need to have an elevator expert come in to do a proper inspection. It’s probably a minor upgrade to pass code.”
The owner did not know what to think, and my brother-in-law said, “Now, let’s talk about the biggest expense, the entryway. It does not have a wheelchair ramp. To put one in, you need to move the load-bearing columns. Twenty million.” “What!!!!! Is he right?” One contractor responded, “Oh, we can put in one of those wheelchair elevators. No big deal. A grand or two.” “That would stick out into the public sidewalk. The city does not allow that.” “That cannot be,” the smug contractor said. “Trust me, it is. Twenty million bucks, minimum.”
The owner did not know who to believe. My brother-in-law submitted an estimate three times more than the competitors, including many other issues he spotted but did not discuss.
The other contractors submitted bids, including “unexpected code issue” clauses. So, the owner called a professional building inspector who spent a week pointing out what my brother-in-law said and other issues.
Why did I write so much about this side tangent? My mother insisted the work begin without “opening the walls” despite my brother-in-law’s objections. The demolition took three times longer than expected and uncovered many issues. The renovation took two months longer than expected and cost four times more. Still, he did a fantastic job with a new kitchen, new (cheap) appliances, wood floors, good lighting, consistent paint, and working outlets. Yet, some building material was left over, and he stored it there (foreshadowing).
Last year, I forced another renovation. The main bedroom shower had broken tile at the bottom, leaking water into the wall. This caused dry rot and black mold. Because my brother-in-law is now employed, my mother called a contractor who insisted on a two-phase project: the demolition (opening the walls) and the rebuild. In the process, he found termites.
The contractor oversaw a massive remodel of the main bathroom, the outside wall, and part of the kitchen. The termite company had to drill holes in the concrete to inject poison. The contractor tiled the outside concrete to cover all the holes and painted the garage floor. All this construction left piles of extra building material (more foreshadowing).
My parent’s health has recently declined, and they decided to sell the condo. So, they found a real estate salesperson who did not show up at the appointment time or return their calls. They contacted another who was eager to help.
My wife and I wanted to take a last trip to the condo and decided that three weeks ago was perfect. We planned to have a relaxing vacation and take some of the things we brought there. I offered to do some minor cleaning, but the plan was for my mother and sister to do the bulk of the work.
The day before our relaxing trip, my mother dropped a bombshell. They wanted to put the condo on the market this month and asked us to prepare it for sale. My mother had a long list of things to clean/fix and items to bring to her. Yikes!
My wife and I spent Friday evening, all day Saturday, and Sunday morning cleaning, collecting trash, and packing my pickup truck. There was so much junk: old phone books, broken appliances, two remodels worth of building materials, and overflow from their house.
What is “overflow?” My parents were both teachers, and they ran a mail-order company for many years. The condo became a storage locker for these activities. One closet had boxes full of old mimeographed lessons and blank business invoices. In addition, there were falling apart silk plants loaded with dust, old food, broken kitchen appliances, and over a hundred sheets/pillowcases.
The worst part was the basic cleaning because my parents have a dog which left hair everywhere. We brought a few Clorox Clean-Ups but needed to buy two more containers, resulting in three trash bags of paper towels and Clean-Ups. Even the oven, which only saw limited use, was loaded with burned food. It had dog hair in it. How did it get there?
The biggest problem was disposing of the trash because the condo lacked a big dumpster. So, I drove around town looking for a place to get rid of it. I quickly learned from the big warning signs it is illegal to dump trash in dumpsters behind buildings. So, I spent 30 minutes driving until I found a big dumpster without a sign. I am such a scamp.
By Sunday morning, we had done a great job preparing the place for sale. The real estate person came and toured the condo. Unfortunately, we had no time left to work on the plants or clean the garage. He was impressed with our work.
As I drove away, my truck was overloaded with stuff, and I took a huge pile to my parent’s house. I ended up with some useful items, but the majority was bulky trash I could not take to the dumpster. It took three weeks to break it down and load it into my trash bin.
Why am I telling you this? Since I have become a writer, my perspective has changed. I thought a lot about what I was doing for the entire weekend. I was clearing away one family’s memories for another to take over. The old school papers brought back memories of my mother’s teaching. Then there were the hours and hours my father spent preparing items for customers. It made me wonder what the people purchasing the condo did for a living.
Another aspect was all the choices my parents made. Why this particular set of glasses? Why white furniture and not brown? Everything reflected my parent’s personality, goals, and fashion sense.
Now, I need to take another side tangent. Palm Springs is a retirement destination, plus many wealthy people live there. This makes it an odd driving combination of ultra-conservative/nearly blind slow-pokes and entitled rich brats in flashy cars. Red lights are “a low priority suggestion” and expect to be cut off.
Because retired people pass away, something has to happen with their possessions. Plus, rich people die or want to get rid of their junk. This inspired several consignment stores, and I enjoy window shopping. They are loaded with artwork, jewelry, furniture, antiques, and household stuff. If you get a chance, check out the artwork.
Going further down this tangent. Let’s think about these people who recently passed away and the stuff ending up at the consignment store. They were born between 1930 and 1960, which means they lived through the 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s and 90s.
Take me as an example. My childhood was in the 1970s and 1980s, meaning this was my favorite clothing era, music style, and culture. Duran Duran, Maimi Vice, salmon pink clothes, hair gel, Nakamchi tape players, Amiga computers… But for these people, the list is vastly different: doo-wop music, 1957 Chevy, patchouli oil, macrame, fly collars, Dual record players, shag carpet, mood rings, go-go boots, the Beatles, bell bottoms…
At these consignment stores, I see what people purchased at the height of their big spending. The artwork has a distinctive 60s, 70s and 80s style. The paintings are in the Patrick Nagel style, The Summer of Love, the Peace Movement, Stick It to the Man, or 80s flash with bold colors. Then there are the 80s fitness machines, 70s appliances, and random 60s art-deco things. It is like I am walking through a time machine.
What was the condo style? My parents purchased it in the early 90s, and the southwestern style was popular. So they bought new beechwood furniture with cactus themes and Native American patterns. Everything else was old stuff they brought from their house, including a load of 80s appliances, tube televisions, dual VHS player, wireless phones, an answering machine, an old mixer in a faded box, Puma shoes, a boom box, and board games.
They were comfortable with this and wanted the place to have this style. So, as I cleaned, it was like going back in time to when my parents were younger and purchasing what was hip.
Of course, this makes me think about my daughter going through my piles of junk and what my stuff would look like at the consignment stores. A good example is my CD collection. I knew all about CD players in high school but could not afford one. By college, they were less expensive, and I got one. My CD collection was about 20 at the time due to my lack of funds. Unfortunately, this did not change when I graduated due to the lousy economy. It took two years to get a job, but something drastically changed.
Napster came along, and I could get all the MP3s I wanted, so there was no need to purchase the bulky CDs. At this time, I had about 40 in padded Case Logic boxes. It was so cool. So, I put the cases in a closet and forgot about them.
Over the years, my income gained, and I wanted to fulfill a minor goal. In college, I admired my friend Matt’s CD collection, and eight years ago, I decided to build my ultimate CD collection. I spent great effort going to thrift stores, the swap meet, eBay, and the site ImportCD. To date, I have 555 CDs, which are all cataloged in a detailed Excel spreadsheet. Yeah… Such a geek.
Today, I am missing five, but they never come up for sale, so it is unlikely I will ever get them. I am writing about this because someday, my daughter must do something with my collection. By then, CDs might come back into fashion, but it is more likely that all my hard work will get tossed in the trash.
What does a big pile of CDs say about me? That is what I thought as I boxed up things at the condo. The CDs represent my exact musical taste and are something I cherish. IE, “This is what Bill is into.”
Right now, my daughter is building her pile of junk. Did you know that exotic erasers are popular with kids? They are, and my daughter has a collection of various styles and colors. Hello Kitty erasers? You bet. Someday, my daughter’s children will be cleaning out her house and have to decide what to do with a pile of once-cherished erasers.
You’re the best -Bill
March 26, 2025
Some condo problems have occurred over the past 30 years. The primary issue is that nobody permanently stays there, and all dwellings need regular maintenance—especially the plants. So, spending at least three hours cleaning and repairing is mandatory. On many occasions, I spent the entire weekend repairing.
About fifteen years ago, the problems were so bad that a major renovation was necessary. My brother-in-law was out of work then, and my parents paid him to do the remodel. He is a licensed building contractor, and this arrangement benefited everybody.
Now, I must take a side tangent. My brother-in-law is very good at his job, and I have learned much about construction from him. One of his biggest lessons is, “You never know what you are in for until you open the walls. So, open the walls before you start.” A good example of this philosophy came from an estimate he worked on for renovating the El Cortez Hotel.
Every city has landmarks, and one of the famous downtown ones in San Diego is El Cortez. It has a massive neon sign that can be seen for miles. The owners decided to change it from a hotel to a high-end condominium. They brought in three contractors for estimates, including my brother-in-law.
The other two were dressed in slick business suits and only spoke in generalizations, while my brother-in-law dressed in jeans and quietly observed everything like a hawk.
They came to one room, and he said, “So, this place is going to be remodeled?” “Yes.” “Alright, let’s open a well.” “Why?” the owner asked. “You do not need to do that,” one contractor remarked. “Look, I need to see what’s in here. You have to get rid of all the drywall anyway. Right?” “Umm, I suppose,” answered the owner. Quick as lightning, my brother-in-law whips out a utility knife and slices a ten-foot-wide cut into the drywall. He peeled it away, and it came crashing down. Everybody is stunned.
“Kind of what I expected. Look, this wiring all needs to go. But that is not the worst part. You have a pipe going through a load-bearing wall.” “Is that a problem?” the owner asked. “If other rooms are like this, it will cost you double.” The other contractors were stunned. “This is going to be a massive job. I have seen all I need to see in this room. Let’s look at the elevators.” “Why?” another contractor asked. “I am betting they need to be replaced.”
They went to the elevator room, and my brother-in-law said, “Yup, as I suspected. You need to install brand-new elevators. Because this is a sixteen-floor building, five million each.” “What!!! Is he right?” the owner asked one contractor. “Oh, well, umm, you need to have an elevator expert come in to do a proper inspection. It’s probably a minor upgrade to pass code.”
The owner did not know what to think, and my brother-in-law said, “Now, let’s talk about the biggest expense, the entryway. It does not have a wheelchair ramp. To put one in, you need to move the load-bearing columns. Twenty million.” “What!!!!! Is he right?” One contractor responded, “Oh, we can put in one of those wheelchair elevators. No big deal. A grand or two.” “That would stick out into the public sidewalk. The city does not allow that.” “That cannot be,” the smug contractor said. “Trust me, it is. Twenty million bucks, minimum.”
The owner did not know who to believe. My brother-in-law submitted an estimate three times more than the competitors, including many other issues he spotted but did not discuss.
The other contractors submitted bids, including “unexpected code issue” clauses. So, the owner called a professional building inspector who spent a week pointing out what my brother-in-law said and other issues.
Why did I write so much about this side tangent? My mother insisted the work begin without “opening the walls” despite my brother-in-law’s objections. The demolition took three times longer than expected and uncovered many issues. The renovation took two months longer than expected and cost four times more. Still, he did a fantastic job with a new kitchen, new (cheap) appliances, wood floors, good lighting, consistent paint, and working outlets. Yet, some building material was left over, and he stored it there (foreshadowing).
Last year, I forced another renovation. The main bedroom shower had broken tile at the bottom, leaking water into the wall. This caused dry rot and black mold. Because my brother-in-law is now employed, my mother called a contractor who insisted on a two-phase project: the demolition (opening the walls) and the rebuild. In the process, he found termites.
The contractor oversaw a massive remodel of the main bathroom, the outside wall, and part of the kitchen. The termite company had to drill holes in the concrete to inject poison. The contractor tiled the outside concrete to cover all the holes and painted the garage floor. All this construction left piles of extra building material (more foreshadowing).
My parent’s health has recently declined, and they decided to sell the condo. So, they found a real estate salesperson who did not show up at the appointment time or return their calls. They contacted another who was eager to help.
My wife and I wanted to take a last trip to the condo and decided that three weeks ago was perfect. We planned to have a relaxing vacation and take some of the things we brought there. I offered to do some minor cleaning, but the plan was for my mother and sister to do the bulk of the work.
The day before our relaxing trip, my mother dropped a bombshell. They wanted to put the condo on the market this month and asked us to prepare it for sale. My mother had a long list of things to clean/fix and items to bring to her. Yikes!
My wife and I spent Friday evening, all day Saturday, and Sunday morning cleaning, collecting trash, and packing my pickup truck. There was so much junk: old phone books, broken appliances, two remodels worth of building materials, and overflow from their house.
What is “overflow?” My parents were both teachers, and they ran a mail-order company for many years. The condo became a storage locker for these activities. One closet had boxes full of old mimeographed lessons and blank business invoices. In addition, there were falling apart silk plants loaded with dust, old food, broken kitchen appliances, and over a hundred sheets/pillowcases.
The worst part was the basic cleaning because my parents have a dog which left hair everywhere. We brought a few Clorox Clean-Ups but needed to buy two more containers, resulting in three trash bags of paper towels and Clean-Ups. Even the oven, which only saw limited use, was loaded with burned food. It had dog hair in it. How did it get there?
The biggest problem was disposing of the trash because the condo lacked a big dumpster. So, I drove around town looking for a place to get rid of it. I quickly learned from the big warning signs it is illegal to dump trash in dumpsters behind buildings. So, I spent 30 minutes driving until I found a big dumpster without a sign. I am such a scamp.
By Sunday morning, we had done a great job preparing the place for sale. The real estate person came and toured the condo. Unfortunately, we had no time left to work on the plants or clean the garage. He was impressed with our work.
As I drove away, my truck was overloaded with stuff, and I took a huge pile to my parent’s house. I ended up with some useful items, but the majority was bulky trash I could not take to the dumpster. It took three weeks to break it down and load it into my trash bin.
Why am I telling you this? Since I have become a writer, my perspective has changed. I thought a lot about what I was doing for the entire weekend. I was clearing away one family’s memories for another to take over. The old school papers brought back memories of my mother’s teaching. Then there were the hours and hours my father spent preparing items for customers. It made me wonder what the people purchasing the condo did for a living.
Another aspect was all the choices my parents made. Why this particular set of glasses? Why white furniture and not brown? Everything reflected my parent’s personality, goals, and fashion sense.
Now, I need to take another side tangent. Palm Springs is a retirement destination, plus many wealthy people live there. This makes it an odd driving combination of ultra-conservative/nearly blind slow-pokes and entitled rich brats in flashy cars. Red lights are “a low priority suggestion” and expect to be cut off.
Because retired people pass away, something has to happen with their possessions. Plus, rich people die or want to get rid of their junk. This inspired several consignment stores, and I enjoy window shopping. They are loaded with artwork, jewelry, furniture, antiques, and household stuff. If you get a chance, check out the artwork.
Going further down this tangent. Let’s think about these people who recently passed away and the stuff ending up at the consignment store. They were born between 1930 and 1960, which means they lived through the 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s and 90s.
Take me as an example. My childhood was in the 1970s and 1980s, meaning this was my favorite clothing era, music style, and culture. Duran Duran, Maimi Vice, salmon pink clothes, hair gel, Nakamchi tape players, Amiga computers… But for these people, the list is vastly different: doo-wop music, 1957 Chevy, patchouli oil, macrame, fly collars, Dual record players, shag carpet, mood rings, go-go boots, the Beatles, bell bottoms…
At these consignment stores, I see what people purchased at the height of their big spending. The artwork has a distinctive 60s, 70s and 80s style. The paintings are in the Patrick Nagel style, The Summer of Love, the Peace Movement, Stick It to the Man, or 80s flash with bold colors. Then there are the 80s fitness machines, 70s appliances, and random 60s art-deco things. It is like I am walking through a time machine.
What was the condo style? My parents purchased it in the early 90s, and the southwestern style was popular. So they bought new beechwood furniture with cactus themes and Native American patterns. Everything else was old stuff they brought from their house, including a load of 80s appliances, tube televisions, dual VHS player, wireless phones, an answering machine, an old mixer in a faded box, Puma shoes, a boom box, and board games.
They were comfortable with this and wanted the place to have this style. So, as I cleaned, it was like going back in time to when my parents were younger and purchasing what was hip.
Of course, this makes me think about my daughter going through my piles of junk and what my stuff would look like at the consignment stores. A good example is my CD collection. I knew all about CD players in high school but could not afford one. By college, they were less expensive, and I got one. My CD collection was about 20 at the time due to my lack of funds. Unfortunately, this did not change when I graduated due to the lousy economy. It took two years to get a job, but something drastically changed.
Napster came along, and I could get all the MP3s I wanted, so there was no need to purchase the bulky CDs. At this time, I had about 40 in padded Case Logic boxes. It was so cool. So, I put the cases in a closet and forgot about them.
Over the years, my income gained, and I wanted to fulfill a minor goal. In college, I admired my friend Matt’s CD collection, and eight years ago, I decided to build my ultimate CD collection. I spent great effort going to thrift stores, the swap meet, eBay, and the site ImportCD. To date, I have 555 CDs, which are all cataloged in a detailed Excel spreadsheet. Yeah… Such a geek.
Today, I am missing five, but they never come up for sale, so it is unlikely I will ever get them. I am writing about this because someday, my daughter must do something with my collection. By then, CDs might come back into fashion, but it is more likely that all my hard work will get tossed in the trash.
What does a big pile of CDs say about me? That is what I thought as I boxed up things at the condo. The CDs represent my exact musical taste and are something I cherish. IE, “This is what Bill is into.”
Right now, my daughter is building her pile of junk. Did you know that exotic erasers are popular with kids? They are, and my daughter has a collection of various styles and colors. Hello Kitty erasers? You bet. Someday, my daughter’s children will be cleaning out her house and have to decide what to do with a pile of once-cherished erasers.
You’re the best -Bill
March 26, 2025
