I suppose it’s time to take the tree down now, even though I really don’t want to. Behind the tree hides aged wallpaper, dark curtains and a home that is not yet mine.
When we bought this house, just a few years back, we were escaping what my husband deems the city, what I would call the suburbs. From a tiny shoebox sized duplex, where you could easily spit from the front wall to the back wall (and you could hear your neighbor dong the same) to a 50-year-old house sitting on 6 acres.
The Kitchen the day we moved in
We might have been a wee bit too desperate to escape that tiny duplex. The house, this house, needed (needs) TONS of work. The gutters had trees growing out of them, the land was a virtual jungle (complete with rabid snakes), every surface of the house was (is) either covered in dated paneling or wallpaper (and when I say EVERY I mean it, even my cabinets are wallpapered), the carpets showed over 20 years of stains… I could go on and on.
It doesn’t help matters much when I’m a D.I.Y. addict, honestly, I could watch This Old House for HOURS, I can’t stand to pay someone to do work for me because OBVIOUSLY I could do it so much better myself, unless we’re talking electricity which scares the heck out of me. And I’m impatient. I refuse to wait on other people to help me. Ask me how many people offered to paint the baby’s room when I was pregnant, then ask me why I was left to do it on my own 3 months before I was set to deliver. Don’t count on other people if you want stuff done. <- but that’s just my theory.
My husband though, on the other hand, has not one impatient or D.I.Y. bone in his entire body, not when it comes to this house. Him- “I think we should rip out that wallpaper in our room.” Me- “really?! *happy dance*” Him- “*rip, tear* How about a break? *never shows back up*” Me- six months later, finally finished sanding down the walls and managed to paint them, the room still sits unfinished.
Somedays it is a wonder that we’re still together. Had I known that his diy attitude in the duplex would disappear when we actually had stuff to do, I would have run FAR, FAR AWAY from this house. Momma can only do so much on he own while juggling animals and children.
But I’m stubborn as well. Like with my garden. I began the garden after waiting almost 2 years for the promises of heavy machinery to come through and till up the billions of rocks and boulders that lay beneath the surface. 2 Years. Then I had enough of the waiting. With a pistol (for the snakes), shovel, and hand powered garden claw in hand I set to work. Bleeding fingers, skinned knees, and sunburns later I had a healthy crop of green beans, radishes and lettuce. (And a nice rocky path, I should really open up a rock store)
And so now I’m sitting here, dreading packing up all of the Christmas decorations that have been hiding the work that needs to be done. My eyes will have no more diversions to the aged wallpaper and panelling, to the ancient non-matching light fixtures, to the years of neglect this place has seen.
Inside I want to take a sledge-hammer to the walls and start brand new, and oh I want a vaulted ceiling in my kitchen!!! But my budget is more leaning towards MAYBE being able to buy a can of paint… maybe. *sighs*
But we’re talking about the girl who made a garden out of a rock quarry and who finally perfected making her own bread… If I can write a 50,000 word novel in less than 30 days surely I can remodel at least the kitchen with nothing more than twenty bucks… right? *starts digging in the couch cushions* I might need a tad bit more than $20.00…
To be continued…
Coffee and Spellcheck 