200 year-old house on 25 rocky acres in high country upstate NY and SO many highbush blueberries!
Friday, November 5, 2010
Just finished the inspection for the new house, and am glad to say there are NO major findings. That's right, none. The worst thing this highly respected inspector could find was that the railings on the porch would allow a child to get through. This is the 6th house I've bought in my life, and the one in the best shape, by far. There's a reason for that. This house is not even 50 years old, less than half the age of all the other houses I've bought. Compared to the struggles I've had trying to learn how to live alone out here in the woods, buying houses is a breeze and something I'm totally comfortable doing (too bad I'm not rich!).
The kitchen is bright, clean, in good shape, plenty of cupboard space ... sigh. All the bedrooms have closets, some closets even have lights!
Yeah, maybe the oven and the refrigerator are the same age as the house, but I have a 2-year old fridge ready to move. No problem. Looks like I'm going back to no-oven-land though! At least for a while.
You could roller skate in this huge, clean, dry basement! This picture shows only HALF of the basement. It's SO far away from the rock and dirt floor with the 5 foot ceiling that is the basement in my current house. I think about living in this house and a feeling of peace comes over me.
The thoughts that I might not want to live alone in the country any more began to creep into my mind in July after I briefly dated a writer. Time I spent talking to him and other city folks made me remember how much I had enjoyed city stuff. That's when I re-subscribed to that girl magazine I used to like and when I got a pedicure - and red toenails. Sometimes it's the small things that start the ball rolling!
It's like the washing machine. After I moved in with my husband-to-be, I did our laundry at a laundromat for years. We lived on the 2nd floor of an up-and-down and every few weeks I'd take 10 loads of laundry out, wash it, dry it, fold it and then haul it back home and up the stairs. I hated it, but you really can't hate something you have to do like that and besides, we were poor and didn't have any options. (Don't even ask why, if we both had full-time jobs and I was also taking a full course load, why it was my responsibility to do the laundry. It was a few years before I even asked myself that question.) Then a friend sold us a washing machine cheap, and I began to do laundry at home. I can't overstate how much it changed my life by taking away some of that time-consuming drudgery I had refused to think about because I felt we didn't have any options. (Eventually I made my unsupportive husband-at-the-time do his own laundry, but was then and that's another story.)
I don't revisit decisions after I've made them, so here I am in the woods, struggling through first after first after first. Desperately wishing it wasn't so hard and such a struggle and that I didn't have to do it alone. And then it was July and I dated the writer, and then August and the goats died, and then September, or maybe it was October and my neighbor was a complete scary jerk, and then I realized that it doesn't have to be like this and I made a different decision and here we are.
This house has a distinctive midcentury modern style. It's like the architect was copying the Jetsons in places. Yes, this house was "architected," also a first for me. Everything is solid. Everything works, everything is straight and no floors are soft and everything is square and I don't have to replace the roof or snake any drains that fall apart if you run too much water. Like I said, peace.