No more waiting, no more finger-crossing – I finally have the key to my new home.
As long as I can remember I’ve wanted to work on an old house and make it a home. Here, now, is the opportunity – I’m surprised and delighted to find myself in love with an 1848 brick and shingle farmhouse in the Catskills. It needs TLC; there are projects calling out for attention from every room and corner of the yard. I spent the weekend wandering from basement to porch to bathroom to wood pile; adjusting the water temperature, cleaning the sink, staring at a patch of mystery ivy (Boston or poison?!), starting my billionth list, sitting down in shock, and then making the rounds again. The thought of all the to dos makes me want to lie down.
Just when I was getting overwhelmed, the local welcoming committee rep. showed up and insisted on rubbing his body all over us, rolled over and showed us the gray spot on his chest, and when I walked away decided to climb my leg!
Thank goodness for friendly neighbors and heavy denim.