The day of home inspection had a different rhythm than the rest of the day-trips my wife and I had taken to look at properties this summer. We left home leisurely and hung around afterward to walk in the water without feeling pressure to leave. The service at Earthdog Cafe was slow and the food was good, as usual. We would enjoy ourselves here.
Tim, the home inspector, arrived before us, but did not know the combination of the lock-box. LeeAnne, the real estate agent, arrived in short order to save us all. We had been forewarned that, Roy, a local handyman, the kind who prides himself on caring for all the vacation homes in the region, would arrive to welcome us to the neighborhood and to offer his services, of course. He showed up on time too and parked himself on a chair in the living room for the duration.
A home inspection is intended to uncover issues and defects that might dissuade a potential buyer from getting in over his head. Nothing too noteworthy was uncovered during ours. A section of flashing was not properly protecting a sheet of sub-flooring. Some carriage bolts were absent on the stairs and in the shed. A set of light fixtures were not rated for exterior use and could not be made to turn on. The controls for the radiant floor heat were elusive.
Our only significant concern was the deck which appeared to be in desperate need of sealant. To our surprise, turned out that Roy had been contracted by the owner to reseal the deck. It may not happen quickly, but it sounded like there was a slim chance it would get done before our move-in. Maybe if the god Loki was looking out for us.
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