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Wednesday, September 01, 2004 Tin Roof ... Rusted ...
Generally, you would expect to see sex, drugs, and rock & roll; or, at least, the hint of an elicit affair, a minor infraction that could be construed as illegal (or, at the very least, slightly immoral), or some such excitement emanating from my column, wouldn't you? -- AH-HA! -- I got your attention, didn't I??? Well, I hate to disappoint my fans, but it is simply a more mundane column this week. You see - I'm in the midst of packing. When I say, in the midst, I'm waist-high in boxes, that are filling every room of the house with only a rat's maze of a path to move from room to room. Granted, there are certain things I have refused to pack until the very last minute - my computer, my AV system, and my DVD player but, sadly, those are slated for dismantling on Monday as well, since the movers arrive -- bright and early -- on Tuesday morning to begin loading the trucks for the move. This move has been a hard lesson in dealing with S-T-R-E-S-S on both ends of the transaction. Perhaps you've read some of my rantings on the boards about a bit of the suffering I've had to endure. This is not even a 1/1,000th of the stressors that have faced us on the buying -- as well as the selling -- ends of these transactions (not to mention other stressors totally unrelated to the house transactions!)! As many times as we have bought and sold houses, I've NEVER encountered people such as this (and, there have been a few whackos in the past!)! Top that off with discovering just two weeks ago (after someone posted a link to the "National Registry of Sex Offenders" -- forgive me for not being able to give credit to the columnist who posted the link, I couldn't track down the link again while writing this column -- sorry!), that we are moving within three miles of a registered sex offender -- Oh, Joy! Yes, that was LOADED with sarcasm! We originally began our house-hunting in Pennsylvania (we're in the suburbs of D.C. but my s.o. has service centers located in three States and he travels extensively, so we can live practically anywhere in a reasonable circle of the Mid-Atlantic region), but after the turn-of-the-century homes with acreage we were looking at (that looked so good in the MLS listings) turned out to be such DUDS when we made the many treks to PA, we decided to look closer to where we live now. Our Virginia Realtor, based upon our criteria, brought over several listings for us to view prior to scheduling a day to visit all of the ones we were interested in. I made two stacks -- one was "possible options" and the other was "not interested." I took the "not interested" stack and tossed them into the trash, and the Realtor made a list of the MLS numbers on the "possible options," left the listings with us, pulled the listings again when he returned to the office, and called to make appointments for us to visit each of the houses we chose to see. On the day we were viewing houses, we had excluded several after viewing one because they were by the same builder and basically the same floor plan. (I didn't want to look at new construction anyway but, I had to humor everyone else to get to see what I wanted to see.) At that point, I said "We have only two more to see," (both of which were turn-of-the-century homes) and both my s.o. and the Realtor said, "No, we have three more to see." I had the stack of listings in my hand and there were only two left. I asked to see the listings that they had, and they had one of the listings that we had originally placed in the "not interested" stack and tossed in the trash the first night prior to the Realtor going back and re-pulling the MLS listings to make appointments. I believe in SIGNS and took this as a sign that we were supposed to see this house, even though it did not meet our criteria. As we pulled up in front of the house, I was mesmerized. The semi-circular drive in front of the white picket fence let you take in the full view of the house that sits at least 250' back from the drive. We walked up the sidewalk, and as we reached the front porch, the Realtor made a passing comment that he thought "This would be a great old house to scare children at Halloween!" We walked up onto the porch and as he opened the door, it creaked open, and as I stepped across the threshold, I knew I was home. The Victorian farmhouse was built in 1898. It has six fireplaces (none of which are presently in working order - that will be a LOT of money to have those restored!). The character and charm of the house, even though it hasn't been cared for in several years, still exists and will return with lots of TLC. There is a lot of work to be done but, it will all be worth it in the end. Behind the main house is a small guest house / studio, which I will eventually turn into my office / studio - but, it will take a lot of work and restoration to get it to a viable point as well. As for the acreage, in the adjoining pasture, there is a barn that my s.o. will use for his woodworking shop - a'la Norm Abrams. He makes great furniture, furnishings and accessories. He'll be making more things along the lines of restoration and repair items in the months ahead. The house, studio and barn all have tin roofs (ahhhhhhh!, I can't wait until it rains!!), and I keep hearing that Prince song in my head … Raspberry Beret:  I put her on the back of my bike And-a we went riding Down by old man Johnson's farm I said now, overcast days never turned me on But something about the clouds and her mixed [[snip]] The rain sounds so cool when it hits the barn roof And the horses wonder who U are Thunder drowns out what the lightning sees The SIGNS kept coming from Day-One with this house. Even though we should have moved two months ago, I never gave up on this house because of the SIGNS. Remember that passing comment the Realtor made about Halloween? When we returned to the car that first day after looking at the house, I took the MLS listing and looked over it again to get a bit more information on the house. Imagine my surprise when I saw the date that it was listed for sale -- October 31st, 2002. As we drove away, we were chatting about the house and, about a mile down the road, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, a black cat dashed out across the road, right in front of our car. When it passed to the other side of the road, it stopped and turned back to look at us. It just sat there, looking at us, watching us, until we were out of sight. Even though there have been MORE than a few roadblocks in our way during the last two months, it appears that, as of Wednesday, 05/07/03, everyone will be signing on the dotted lines, keys will be exchanging hands, and we will finally be able to move into our 1898 Victorian with the Spirits who have been waiting most patiently for our arrival . . . Originally published Sunday May 04, 2003 (bw) 2003 © Copyrighted Materials - All Rights Reserved. Susan Reno-Gilliland A Southern Belle's Life # posted by Kitty : 3:26 PM
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"a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma" --- Miss Kitty, an Irish lass, a true Southern Belle; writer, photographer, artist, interior designer, animal-lover, dreamer, stargazer, cop-groupie, 70's junkie, cbc, slightly obsessive iNFp with stories to tell! ... (fascinated by forensics, human behavior, pushing all the right buttons of men she finds interesting, and seeking utterly-sweet revenge without any repercussions. ) --- "Darlin', don't ever take a Southern woman for granted!" [tm] Feeling the uncontrollable urge to shower me with gifts?!? Check out my Amazon 
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