DEBRIS.COMgood for a laugh, or possibly an aneurysm

We realized we’ve been enjoying good house karma lately. I’m writing about it now to thoroughly jinx myself, because I just can’t stand it when things go too well, and I really need to add some new stressors to my life. I fully expect part of the roof to cave in as soon as I publish this story.

A few weeks back we had our oven diagnosed because the thermostat was off by 75°. The repair estimate was ridiculously high at $860.

When we bought this house, we had the foresight to purchase a home warranty policy. A “home warranty” is basically an insurance policy that pays off if anything breaks during the first year of ownership. Some systems, like septic and wells, are exempt unless you purchase additional specialized coverage, but basic appliances and systems (heating, cooling) tend to be covered.

The policy we have may not be the best. It requires a $40 copay, which the insurance company uses to dissuade all casual inquiries — at $40 per claim, we’d want to be sure something was wrong.

With our oven situation, I was sure something was wrong. The insurance company arranged for a diagnostic visit and repair, and paid the whole tab minus my $40 fee. It all worked out surprisingly well.

(Confirming my suspicion that the original repair shop was trying to hold me up when they bid $860, the folks who actually did the work told me the wholesale price on the controller board: $250. Installation took about a half-hour. Had there been no insurance coverage, they’d have charged me $440, or roughly half what the original shop quoted. )

The $400 I saved pays for my entire home warranty, and then some. I am now a convert to the religion of home-warranty insurance. I just wish I was getting a commission.

Then we had a problem with our heater: all the vents in the main zone died. A phone call to the insurance company revealed that zoned heating systems are not covered by our policy… can’t win ‘em all I guess… and a second call, to the HVAC contractor who’d installed the zoned system originally, revealed that the part that had blown out was discontinued by the manufacturer.

All in all these were not looking like ingredients for a good-karma story, and I was on a deadline, so I had to juggle reality pretty quickly. Immediately, the HVAC guy said, “But you know, I think I have exactly one of those discontinued parts in the back of my warehouse. I’ll go dig it out and give it to you for free.” Seriously. In the end I paid him $90 for the installation and a grateful handshake for the part. He’s won a customer for life.

Finally, and there has to be a 3rd instance in any proof so here you go, we watched anxiously as the skies opened and drenched our new home for the first time this season. To understand how this feels, remember that in California it generally does not rain between April and November. And then it rains a lot and continues to do so for five months, causing enough flooding and drainage problems to keep repair crews busy for the dry summer to follow. The season’s first rain is like a warning shot at everyone who thinks they might need new gutters or a french drain.

For new homeowners, the frightening question is “where does the water go?” Chances are, it goes somewhere you’d rather it didn’t, like into the basement. Another good chance: your yard and/or driveway will end up about 10' further downhill than it was before the rain started. It kills my green soul to say this, but pavement is a good thing.

However… so far, so good.

We’d managed to clean out the gutters the weekend before, and I’m sure that helped prevent some problems. We hadn’t cut all the dead branches out of the trees yet, but last week’s windstorm took care of them, helpfully dumping two cubic yards’ worth into the driveway for easy pick-up. (We’ve since discovered that driving through them in the car two or three times helps break them up into manageable pieces.)