I hate waiting for things. HATE. WAITING. FOR. THINGS. Presents? Lemme open them now! Long check-out lines? Get real–I’ll go Amazon Prime it. Gender reveal party? Surprise! Ate a cupcake in the kitchen earlier–congrats, it’s a boy! I realize this about myself, and try to temper my urges for immediacy when I can, especially now that I have a husband, two kids, a mortgage, an enormous dog, and most recently, some responsible mom bangs. But then this old house came along, and inevitably, there was just no stopping my insistent, irresponsible, and inconvenient impulses to make a major life change.
You know one thing that’s not quick, easy, or full of instant gratification? The renovation of a 120 year old “folk” Victorian house. Or so I assume–we are still pretty early in the process. So why did I think this house would be a good purchase for us? Glad you asked. Here’s a quick run-down of how we got the Old Girl:
A few months ago, I was busy googling how to sleep train an infant (can’t be trained, won’t be trained, FYI), when a friend sent me a link to the listing of the house on some “Old House Dreams” website. Sometimes, when you have no babysitter, no Saturday night plans, and no pants that fit, you just decide to go see an house because it looks cool and old and semi-scary, and also because the baby actually sleeps on long car rides.
My first impression of the house was that it was filthy and stuffy, and it felt like when you used to go sing Christmas carols to elderly shut-ins with your church as a kid and you tried to be polite and festive, but really you were just about to pass out from mothball smells and a heat stroke. But on the other hand, it also had amazingly tall ceilings, windows that started at the floor, about a million fireplaces, original stained glass, and acres of pretty land around it (more house details and pics coming soon!) After we left, I couldn’t get it out of my head. Deep inside, urgency beast was stirring.
Over the next few weeks, I tried to write off the house as a “one day” scenario. I talked with my husband over hasty pre-bedtime glasses of wine about how one day we’d find a house like this and renovate it. One day we’d find a place that had a good amount of land. One day we’d live within walking distance of a cute little town…and we could find a house with a great front porch…and have chickens and mini goats and tractors and I could decorate things and he could have a barn blah blah etc. then more wine then bedtime. Repeat convo. the next evening. But my inner, impetuous, toddler–like feelings wouldn’t be satiated.
WHY did we have to wait for One Day?! Would we have more money then? Less responsibilities? Self-sufficient children? Flexible careers? Maybe, maybe not. It would be impossible to know, and even more impossible to wait on. What I did know is that we wouldn’t find THIS house again. So we went for it. And it worked out. And we’re crazy. But also, we’re excited to see what we can do with this place, and excited to share this project with you. It’s going to be a long, slow process, but that’s why Jesus gave me a patient engineer for a husband.
Now, back to eating my blue cupcake in a pile of Prime shipments. Gotta feed the beast somehow. Thanks for following along!