Notification

Along with a new blanket of snow, the house also got a notice. A poster-sized paper, with bold, black lettering clearly stating the fate of the house. A demolition notice.

Part of the town's permitting process is that a notice be placed on the doomed house at least three days before demolition or the owner's will be in violation of the ordinance. We know this. We have a copy of the ordinance. So Friday, three days before the supposed demolition, there was no notice on the house. 3pm… no notice. Dave called the demo company.

Dave: When are you going to get the notice up.

Co.: Oh, we've got three printed out and we are going to be at the house tomorrow to put them up.

Dave: Nope. You need to do it today.

Co.: No, we're going to do it tomorrow.

Dave: The notice needs to be up three days before demo.

Co.: No. Just two days.

Dave: No. Three days.

Co.: I talked to the building guy and I'm pretty sure he said as long as it's up two days before we're good.

Dave: No. It's three days. I'm absolutely sure, it's three days. It needs to go up today.

Co.: No, really, it's fine. It can go up tomorrow.

Dave: Really, it's three days. Would you like to know how I know? I'm on the Zoning Board. This new ordinance came before our board recently. I voted on it. Right here in my hand is a copy of the ordinance. Here, let me fax it to you.

Co.: Oh. Ummmm…. okay. I'll go over there today and put up the notice.

Dave: Don't bother. I've already done it.

Tomorrow, that notice should end up in a dumpster along with the entire house. Should. Should end up in a dumpster. There have been too many problems and too many miscommunications for us to feel fully confident that it will really happen tomorrow. But we are prepared anyway. Grandparents are coming to take care of the kids. Tate's staying out of school for the day to see the knock-down. Camera memory cards have been cleared and batteries have been charged. Most importantly, a bottle of champagne is chilling in the fridge, to be hopefully popped open when the gigantic arm of a backhoe smashes through our house.