Thursday, October 11, 2012

The Home Inspector


Five years ago we had a home inspection before the purchase of our house.  The inspection was done by Clark Kent, armed with a screwdriver, a flashlight and a clipboard. He spent time in each room, stuck his head in the attic, visited the basement, and then left to write his report. A few hundred  dollars later we received a slick plastic-covered report with a maximum of three words per page. It was a very thick and impressive document, but was in many ways, useless.

He reported on outlets that were dead, and what the roof was made of. He described our heat system  but failed to mention whether the oven worked. He didn't say anything about the family of skunks living under the backyard shed, or the parade of ants marching to the kitchen from the back door. He was more interested in the distance between the kitchen faucet and the nearest outlet. Apparently it's common for people to stick a pair of tweezers in an outlet with one hand and run water over the other hand, making it impossible to wash your hands properly.

It's my belief that home inspectors should be women. We don't give a hoot what the roof is made of, only whether it leaks. Most of us girls head to the kitchen to see if the microwave waves, and if the oven heats, and whether the drawers open. I was stunned while moving in, to find that the cabinet shelves were so close together they couldn't accommodate the height of a syrup bottle. We keep everything taller than syrup in the bathroom closet next to the Drano.  It's inconvenient to be in the bathroom, hear a knock at the door, and open it to someone in their pajamas holding a plate of pancakes, asking for syrup.

A woman would have noticed that the little lever that is supposed to make water go to the tub instead of the shower is broken. Even after an adjustment with a sledge hammer, the lever won't work.  I haven't had a bath in 5 years.  A woman would notice that there is no light over the washer and dryer. How was I supposed to know the cat was hiding in the laundry basket when I dumped it in the washer?  

If a woman's place is in the kitchen, she should be the inspector. Men can inspect the outdoor grill.

                                                        

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