July 27, 2009
I’m packing. And packing. And packing. Days upon days of sorting through and categorizing my things, and curiously watching myself in how I’ve gone through this process. The house is naked enough now that I am returning to my memories of my first night here: I lay in bed, unable to sleep with the awful smell of the smoke buried in the walls from the prior owners, and then crying, wondering what I had gotten myself into. I left the tidiness of my condo for this dilapidated house with so many needs.
The house had the shutters nailed shut upstairs. A friend came over and we playfully pried the shutters off, then sat on the bed during the sunset, watching the bats dart about the sky and the waves furl at the beach. We sat exhausted, but stunned…there was a view, a fabulous view! I left the shutters in the carport for a couple of weeks, the smell of smoke oozing from them all the while, and then eventually, gave them away.
Since then, I’ve been eying over this gapping hole where the stairs make their climb up, thwarting the appealing space of the best view of the house. I’ve worked through every scenario of how to move the stairs so the placement is at the back of the room, and so, in short, that’s why I got an architect. We made plan after plan of possibilities, a year of thinking, drawing, discussing. An engineer had to get involved. Beams have to come in. Now a deck is added on. Yes, I know. All this means a lot of money. A whole lot of money. A mysterious amount of money. I’ve been moving money around from CD to CD, not sure when all the work would start, and now the market is bad. Money is just sitting in a checking account, waiting, waiting like horses in the start of a race, pawing and prancing and getting ready to jump.
Entry filed under: Remodel Project.