The condo

How long does it take to discover the front door to your own home? Answer: Apparently, if you are me, living in Alaska, somewhere between ten and twenty years.

THIS IS THE BACK DOOR.

I moved to Talkeetna Alaska in 2007 to market my favorite book: The Legend of River Mahay. I decided I needed to live here and bought 640 acres off the grid with a view of Denali, my happy place.

Then I bought an FJ Cruiser. It drives like a tank and feels like a helicopter. I was in heaven, but had a dilemma: Talkeetna is 2.5 hours from the Anchorage Airport. And where do I leave my FJ when I visit the lower 48?

Deduction: I need a garage.

So, I bought a small (600 Sq Ft) condo in Anchorage because it had a garage, and it's located next to Fred Meyer.  I can fly into Anchorage, grab a cab (now an Uber), go to the Condo.  Sleep off the jet lag. Get supplies at Fred's.  Head to Talkeetna.  Simple, right? Nope. And seriously, it should have been.

Because it's Alaska, it takes twice as long to do half as much. Nothing is easy.

I've built businesses.

Traveled the world.

Solved complicated health, family, and business problems.

But this condo...

This condo had me beat.

It had problems that I didn't see coming, and it's taken me 18 years to resolve.

The first time I arrived back in Anchorage, after the purchase, I could not remember the condo address. I jumped in the cab at the airport, and the cab driver and I just sat there, not moving, looking perplexed. He finally asked for the address?  I answered, "I was hoping you knew."  He asked for hints.  I did remember that I lived near a Fred Meyer.  He said there were three of them in Anchorage.

You all know I love Alaska people.  They are friendly, cheerful, problem solvers, life-savers, but they will take advantage of dumb "tourists." I forgot to tell him I wasn't a tourist, but he picked up on the dumb real quick. 

We drove to "a" Fred Meyer on the other side of town.  Literally, the farthest one from the airport. I didn't know. I just knew I lived close to the airport and when I saw the bill reach $100, and we were at Fred Meyer, I got out, luggage and all. 

This was obviously not the right one.

I called another cab and gingerly got into this cab, ending up paying another $50 to get to the next Fred Meyer.  Not the right one either.  I got out and called another cab.

Three was the magic number.  Especially, since there were only three Fred's. I was finally "home," 5 minutes from the airport, paying a total of $150.00 for a cab.  I made up my mind to learn my address.

I never bought this condo to live in, it was a gift for my car to stay warm and be safe.  The next dilemma was getting into the garage.

Unfortunately, the garage door only opened with a remote.  I had left it in the car when I left Alaska.

Now what?

Really?

I didn't know any of my neighbors, but the good news is four of us shared one garage (with four different garage doors).  I staked out the garages and watched for someone to go into one of the four.  Eventually, one of them opened their door, and I ran over to introduce myself and access my FJ.  They were a bit startled over my enthusiasm to meet them.

Over the years, this condo has been handy to me, my family, friends and veterans.  We all use the code on the back door.  None of us ever realized there was a front door entrance. 

One day (after several years) a neighbor told me that we have a small gym in the building.  It has a full bathroom, shower and sauna.  But it had its own key. 

So, I spent several days tracking down the HOA office, and "bought" the key.  I congratulated myself, but when I came back a few years later, I found a brand-new keypad with a mystery code, on the gym/bathroom door.  Sigh. 

A half dozen years have gone by, since then, and I now have that code. 

Things were looking up.  

During COVID I lived in Anchorage for a year because I refused to wear a mask so I wasn't allowed to travel. I noticed my neighbors were coming in through a front door.  I investigated and learned the HOA had a key to this mysterious front door, for a fee.  I excitedly paid the fee, went searching for the HOA office, got the key and was able to go in and out of the front door. Like a real person. I was thrilled.

A few years later I noticed other people got deliveries through the front of our building, but I didn't know how. I only used the post office, for mail and packages. One day the nice Post Office lady told me I had a mailbox.  News to me. They issued a mailbox key.  I was becoming thoroughly modern.  I didn't have to drive 3 hours to downtown Talkeetna to get mail and packages. 

Something amazing happened last week.  I've been here 18 years now, and while carrying groceries up the hill from Fred Meyer, so excited to have my own key to the front door, when I noticed a couple in front of me.  They went up to my building's front door, ahead of me, pushed buttons on this small computer box on the wall and the front door magically opened without a key. I wanted to join that club.

I was told I had to call the HOA.

I called and they said if I paid $45, they would program my condo number into the box, give me a code to push to get into the front door without a key. I asked how I could pay? I hoped not another adventure finding their office since this was a new HOA. They offered to add it to my monthly condo fee. Eurica. 

HOA said: "Hi Deborah. your phone number has been programmed into the door system.  When someone selects your house number from the keypad, it will ring your phone.  Push the number code on your phone to unlock the door.  You will have about 30 seconds of time to talk with whomever is there before the call gets cut off.  Let us know if you have any questions.  Thanks."

Piece of cake? I wasn't counting on it, but I do live by "hopium."

Me to the HOA lady: "Thank you! For me to get in, do I do the same as if I were the "someone?"  She said yes.  I thought, "well ok, then.  I got this."

In the beginning of 2008, I had no furniture in the condo.  An old couch that made into a bed, and a freezer to store the fish anyone caught was it.  My publisher lives in Anchorage, and he was getting rid of a single bed.  He gave it to me.  For all these years, I slept on that bed and had wall to wall air-mattresses for everyone else. 

One summer I had 8 kids, a Nanny, and me stay here.  Wall to wall kids sleeping in every direction.  The kitchen became the place to store luggage.  The gym bathroom became my second bath and changing room.

All good.

Now:

1. I have several remotes for the garage door: in the car, in the garage, in the house, in my purse, with a neighbor.

2. I have code keypads on my front door and back door using same codes. No worries.

3. I have access to the front door using another code pad and my iPhone, and I still have the key.

4. I have the code to the gym.

5. My mailbox key. I have one and leave it with a neighbor.

6. No chances for error. I hope.

I thought I was set, until the other night I heard a moaning.  New.  Scary.  I pulled out my gun and armed, went looking.  It was coming from the kitchen sink.  I went back to bed and called a plumber the next day. By morning, the sinks were filled with foul smelling stuff, looking like a swamp monster.

The plumber was shocked at so much grease.  Filled up one whole bucket.  I hadn't lived here for a year, no one had; and when I am here ... I have to admit ... I don't cook. Therefore, that grease did not come from me.

Then I found out that the two neighbors above me do.  Now I'm waiting for the building drain cleaners.

And BTW when I told the plumbers about the middle of the night noises coming from the sinks, and then finding a "swamp monster," had taken up residence, something interesting happened. I didn't know it, at first, but that spooked them.

The fun part of living in a tiny house is that you can sit on the toilet and see the kitchen, living room, bedroom, garage, front door and back door.

In the summer, it is sometimes chilly, so I turn on the heater for a while.  The plumber was working in the swamp sink mess, when the heater kicked on, he could see the towel hanging on the bathroom door, moving like a ghost.  He screamed, and I couldn't help but laugh hysterically.

In two weeks two of my grandsons will be coming here to stay with me.  We will stay here and in Talkeetna, waiting on nine more kids to show up, along with Nanny Savannah, and Aunt Dana. 

We are going on a cruise of the inside passage. 

I'm hoping that staying on the ship won't be as complicated as my Anchorage Condo, but for sure it will be as comical.

BTW as I'm writing this, my kitchen sink is gurgling and moaning.  I pulled my gun, walked carefully into the kitchen.  The sink is filling up with water ... the swamp monster is back.  I just realized if the power goes out, my garage door won't open, and neither will the keypad to get in the front door. I will be back to using keys.  This so much fun.