Our House

The first time I saw what is now our house, I said, "Ugh, it's yellow, keep driving!" And we drove on. But our real estate agent said we'd best check it out. I think she knew it was all we could afford. And Mr. Man could actually stand up in it.

Nobody had actually done anything to the house in about 15 years, and it was falling apart. The bank had foreclosed on the house from the previous owners which made it sell at a low price, but, oh, the cost of taking it on! The bushes were growing over the front door, the porch was rotted through, the back mudroom smelled of cat pee, and everything was SO DIRTY!

And, to top it off when we went to move in we discovered that during the showing, an area rug had been put down to cover up a bald patch in the staining of the wood floor. Hours of work that we hadn't counted on.

So why did we buy the house? A big, beautiful backyard, and three cheerful crabapple trees. It was a secret garden amidst a ramshackle dwelling. The pixies were there, they were just asleep!

We have been here eight years, and like so many other home-owners, there are projects that have never been quite finished. Unpainted trim, mismatched door handles, and that one drafty wall that just never gets fixed. Things, I hate to admit, that will probably be left until it is our turn to show the house for a new buyer.

But, Mr. Man, his tool belt, his friends, and their tool belts, have done amazing things to this place. One bathroom (with no shower) has now become two and a half (with two showers); we now have two kitchens (one beautiful family kitchen, and one smaller, cute kitchen for the cake shop). The house has almost doubled in size, and the floors are all (mostly) level.

Yet, now as I look around the house I see paint that needs repainting, windows that need repairing, and a dog that needs...well that's another story. The upkeep never ends. The kid's toys are strewn about, and their fancy drawings cover every inch of the fridge and bulletin boards. Our secret garden has turned into a jungle of bicycle helmets, Tonka trucks, sandbox toys, and broken sports equipment.

But isn't this what we signed up for? To fix up a house and then to live in it? Pets, kids, accessories...all of life's wonderful messes!

I can still see the pixies behind the bushes; the treasures beneath the toys. We live in a happy house, a noisy house, and a well worn house. And I don't even mind the yellow siding...much!

House Hunting

A number of years ago, when my husband and I were looking for our first house, we realized that within our budget there were some SLIM pickings out there. Even the house we did buy was a huge fixer-upper, but nothing compared to the house of which I am about to tell you:

The real estate agent took us into this older home: two-storey, three bedroom, etc. We walked into the kitchen which was very narrow and long, like a hallway. The counter was very low - Mr. Man, with his height, would find it hard to wash dishes without straining his back - and the upper cabinets were so high up, that I, with my lack of height, could not reach them.

"Look," I laugh, "the top ones are for you and the bottom ones are for me!" He did not laugh.

So we went over to the stairs. The railing (original to the house) was so loose, it was unsafe to use. I gave the "eyebrow" to Mr. as we leerily took the stairs up.

And as we reached the grand finale of our tour, we gasp, screw up our faces with a big "EWW!" when we see the master bedroom. Along the far wall there is a large bed on the right, with a toilet on the left. (No divider, partitions, walls, etc...) GROSS!! We were outta there!

We joked much later that you could practice aiming from the bed...but maybe that is inappropriate here.

We went through houses that had terrible smells, crazy animals, and low ceilings (the real estate agent and I fell in love with this little house and turn to find Mr. Man with his head tilted - he couldn't stand up straight in the thing!) but we found our house with a little imagination, and hope that we could make it ours. And our toilet is always enclosed in it's own special room, called an ensuite.