So there she is in all her splendor and glory. It took a special kind of crazy to take the leap on this house. Some were turned off from the “A” word, asbestos, used for siding. Others, the derelict old garage that once leaned against the back porch. The general hasn’t-been-touched-since-the-fifties state of the interior didn’t help either.
Brave or deranged, we decided to look past them all to see the possibility for wide-plank pine beneath the tatty red carpet and the yard just steps from a park and playground.
Then, once the decision was made came the garden hose enema of actually buying the thing. With a big chunk of money already thrown down, the bank came up with new requirements every day. The garage was unsafe and they couldn’t lend until it was down. There was exposed lath on the interior and we want you to cover it up. The drywall you put up must be painted. We don’t care if it is mudded or taped, just paint it.
Each day, our faith that this beat up house would eventually be ours waned.
Magically, at the beginning of May, it all fell into place. We closed our eyes, signed our lives away, and the deal was done.
Desperately in search of a reward for all this self-flagellation, we tore up the nasty red carpet the same day we closed. Beneath layers of hardboard, dust, and paper, the old wood floors didn’t hesitate, but breathed the free air for the first time in decades.