After lunch today, Nate put on some old clothes to venture beneath the house and fix a foundation vent that the neighborhood feline delinquents busted out so they could benefit from the warmth of my crawlspace. The crawlspace is one of the places I would never enter on my own will. Not even for a million dollars. Okay, I'd totally do it for a million dollars, but the dark unknown 3-foot tall space beneath my house gives me the heebie jeebies just thinking about it. So I thought Nate was pretty great for offering to go under and keep the cats out.
Yesterday we went to Home Depot and picked up a new foundation vent cover and a tube of Quikrete. We set it up in the caulk gun, armed Nate and sent him below with the supplies. The previous homeowner left a plethora of junk in the crawlspace: glass bottles, a bag of potting soil, and a dozen or so plastic or ceramic pots--everything covered in a layer of dirt (probably from the flood). As Nate tossed stuff out and assured me there was a tarp covering the ground (albeit a very dirty tarp) I poked my head in and my fear of the crawlspace diminished a little. It probably helped that it's wintertime so there aren't any visible bugs or spiders inhabiting the space.
Nate moved over to the north side of the house and found the old vent pushed into the crawlspace. We decided to use it because it was thicker and a better fit than the new vent; we'll take it back to Home Depot for a refund.
The vent wasn't a perfect fit, but Nate slathered enough concrete around the edges that it should stay in position alright. I supervised and took pictures. :) Another victory in homeownership. Thanks, Nate. :)