Monday, December 12, 2011
We returned home late last night, 12:35am. Two sleeping beauties, contorted yet sleeping peacefully in their back seat chairs. We, driving westbound, passed a fatal car accident on the other side of the median. The silence and traffic free road on our side was deafening. The flashing red lights, the backed up traffic for several exists and then darkness on the other side was sobering. The rest of the drive was quiet, long, uneventful and lit ever so brightly with stars and waning moon.
We pull in to the driveway, kiss our blessings and each carry a child. They stir, they wake and they fall back asleep as their heads hit the pillow. I ignored the dreaded words out of Prof. S. mouth. I wanted to see for myself. I wanted to peer through the interior french door and see the reveal. But before he said anything, a pile of debris caught my eye as I had pulled into the driveway. That was either a good sign (finished!) or a bad sign (not finished). But I heard his words. And the tone. I knew I wouldn't be awestruck. Nor shocked, now.
Three extension cords crisscrossing through the house. A little motor working full force, warming the tiles. Dust still wafting down and settling on the hardwood floors. Piles of baseboard and trim leaning against the wall. Yep, The walls look exactly like we left them on Friday. Bottom half stripped, top half still with wallpaper. Aye.
inspiration tiles I found ... so I dunno why I am not feeling the love.
Better then a vestibule renovation reveal, my good friend from across this fine land and then WAY UP north, is coming for a visit. Better then freshly painted walls, newly tiled floor and windproof doors and thresholds, we will sit and chat and sip and sap for three days straight - except we will have to do this over the noise of construction.
**archived photos, 2/2011
Another 100 year old house renovation
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