God, the Universe, Chaos Theory, or any deity you think is running things has a peculiar penchant for piling on. When one thing goes bad, seemingly, every other hanger-on in your life decides now is the time to make the wheel squeak. And the problems fall like rain.
 
I’ve written before about how no good deed goes unpunished. The ultraviolet bookend to that infrared light is that bad deeds also go unpunished. The guy who cuts you off in traffic and weaves in and out of traffic will have his feet up at home while you’re adhering to the rules of the road. He will also be responsible for an exponentially disproportionate number of accidents in which he will not participate.
 
When told the money promised to me was being taken away, I was given notice by an attorney to sign, notarize, and return a document giving away my promised portion. Not that it was a choice, but I “agreed” because it was the “right” thing to do, even if the execution/request was unbelievably insulting and hurtful, and contact with me was a mere afterthought. Still, I acquiesced. That is when God, the Universe, Chaos Theory, or your deity of choice decided to pour acid on the open wound.
 
Our house is 22 years old. In house years, that is young. However, when my wife and I noticed rotting OSB plywood under a window in the garage, we contacted our handyman friend to repair it. What we discovered can only be described as catastrophic. He chased where the leak originated and determined it began above the window. The decorative header above the window was installed incorrectly by the original builder. Nailed directly into the siding on top of the clapboards and without the standard spline of thick sticky tape placed around the window, the nails invited water into the OSB plywood and destroyed the wall from the inside. With that fixed (which involved removing the entire window and reframing the wall), he poked around other similarly constructed windows on the front of the house. Every window had the same rot and destruction. We are rebuilding the front of our home from the outside in. And when they cut out the old studs, they cut into the drywall inside the house, requiring that, too, to be patched and repainted. What started as a simple job now costs us tens of thousands.
 
Piling on is contagious. This week has been hot by Rhode Island standards (high 80s). We called the HVAC contractor when the downstairs air conditioning system malfunctioned. While 22 years is not old for a house, it is for HVAC systems. Replacing it will cost another $12,000.

I haven’t mentioned that the next year also includes us paying for a baby shower, a bridal shower, and a wedding—our fourth wedding in four years. Piling on is contagious.
 
I would not have received the amount I gave away for many years. Paying for the house problems now will cause us to tap into our retirement. The fact that I will not see that amount in the future compounds the insult without consideration by anyone involved. Indeed, the amount we will soon be out of pocket today, withdrawn from our retirement account, is equal to the amount I would have received in the future. It would have been an offset mitigating today’s hemorrhaging. Not having that amount in the future doubles the financial impact. God, the Universe, Chaos Theory, or your deity laugh while man plans. What a sense of humor. No good deed goes unpunished.
 
The only information I have regarding home building is from watching This Old House. With that limited knowledge, I know you use pressure-treated 2x4s on the sill plate (the wood placed on the concrete foundation. My house does not. Tommy Silva on TOH instilled in me that you always use the wide, sticky tape as a spline around windows and doors to seal disparate connections to prevent water infiltration. My house does not have this around any window or door. This begs several questions. Why would the home builder not use these standard building elements? How did the town building inspector not identify these omissions? Did money change hands somewhere to look the other way? We found a patch in three locations, indicating the previous homeowners knew of the problem. Why did they not disclose it when selling the house?
 
Ah, but there must be some recourse we can take to compensate us for this monumental cost! Alas, no! Our homeowner’s insurance policy only covers mold and mildew, not ridiculously poor construction. The statute of limitations against the builder expired ten years after construction. The town has immunity (nice!). Even the inspector we hired before purchasing benefits from a three-year statute of limitations (not that he would have seen anything behind the clapboards and shingles). We could go after the previous owners; however, considering the cost of attorneys and court fees, we would never be made whole or satisfied. There is no punishment for bad behavior. 
 
We have our health, save for the foot surgery I had at the end of May to place screws inside bones that did not heal from a break last October. The frustration, anger, and resignation we feel cannot be erased because we have our health. It is cumulative. We are frustrated, angry, and resigned, AND we have our health.
 
Nice guys finish last, and jerks succeed. And karma? The jerks invented karma as an empty promise to those upon whose necks they place their boot.

Writing is cathartic for me. I know the situation does not change when I vent on paper, but somehow, I feel better—a little better. If you can take anything from this story, all the better. Caveat emptor and cave familiam.