It was such a bitch to get hooked up, too. No wonder I've literally had nightmares about it. The cord needed to go down the wall, into the furnace vent, down to the basement, across the basement ceiling, back up into the living room, around the corner to the dining room, which is where the jack was. That furnace vent business was the real sticker. Me and sheet metal do not get along.
Anyway, I now have my kitchen phone back.
It's not so much about the phone (although the quality of sound cannot be beat), nor is it about the lovely retro object itself. It's about the bell.
My black rotary phone is the only one I can hear when I'm outside. It's the only one loud enough for deaf ol' me, and of a low enough pitch to be inside my hearing range. This kitchen phone, right by the door, should be even better for me. I can hear it when I'm outside, and I can hear it with my ear buds in (which is all the time, given the renter neighbours being on out on their front porch smoking, watching me work, and offering their commentary, although how they would know about working around the house, I have no idea).
So that's all done.
Speaking of neighbours, I'll be getting new ones down the street -- the good neighbours are going. They were the ones who organized the block party every August.
Their house went for $250K. They were asking $209K, under a power of sale. A power of sale, and a robust bidding war. That only means good things for me. Mind you, I would need to sell, first...