Okay, so the title of this little essay is a bit misleading on a number of points--a fact that I feel compelled to disclose for no other reason than that I am relentlessly detail-obsessed and a stickler for completion (which tends to drain the mystery out of things every once in a while, I'll admit). First, the house that I just moved into isn't even close to new; it's 85 years old, the same age as my grandfather. Second, although the adventure that I've recently embarked upon will eventually lead to home ownership, it's technically more accurate to acknowledge that Coldwell Banker mostly owns the house, and will continue to own some part of it for the better part of the next 30 years (or whenever I hand over that last mortgage payment). Finally, although I intend to share several updates and observations about the house, I'm not actually writing from the house because I don't have Internet access set up there yet and probably won't for several more weeks. I would disclose to you where I'm writing from but that could potentially get me in trouble. (You know, misuse of company time and all that...) Oops, I think I just gave it away.
Enough blabber and on to the details? All right, all right! The house is located in the very pretty Regent Square area of Pittsburgh, well-stocked with big old trees, brick streets, excellent beer (in vast quantities), gorgeous residential architecture galore, and a fine little theater. There are other things in Regent Square, of course, but these are among the most important features. My street is mostly quiet, carries very little through-traffic as it ends just one house down with the parking lot of an apartment complex, and is populated by scores of cats endlessly on the prowl and gazing lazily from front stoops. (Then there are the ferocious middle-of-the-night cat fights that I refer to as lovers' quarrels...) The house is a beautiful one indeed, dignified by design and possessed of solid bones, but it has turned out to be more of a fixer-upper than I ever would have imagined. The front porch needs to be mostly rebuilt (not including the roof); both yards require a total landscaping overhaul; the back porch is in need of structural repair; almost every room badly wants a top-to-bottom makeover; the intricate stained glass window above the main stairway must be removed, repaired, and reinforced; and there are hardwood floors so badly saturated with urine from the previous owner's precious Foofy (or whatever the hell the little bastard's name was) that they're still damp and stinky and sweating brown-tar nastiness whenever the air is humid. And that's just the start!
Right now, finding the patience to exist each day in this perpetual project of a house while remembering to embrace my new found freedom and without collapsing from stress--accepting that every project cannot be done at once, that the dream of a near-perfect, "finished" house will not be realized for years, that I am strictly limited by my financial means at any given time--is the greatest challenge for me. I want everything to be done now but it simply can't be, and I knew this when I accepted the responsibility of home ownership. Claiming ultimate dominion over my own property, which I can alter or enhance or neglect or brutalize in any way that I see fit (short of breaking the law, anyway), has brought me a sense of relief that I haven't experienced in a very long time. Still, the task that lies before me is daunting, staggering in scale; I must consciously summon all the resolve and optimism and grace and fortitude within me--and I fear that I'm short on all of those ingredients--in an effort to avoid burning out or giving up on this house. I know that happiness will be found there. No, I can do better than that: it already has been found there.
So far, these are the major projects and tasks that are either complete or underway:
- All carpets have been removed from the house, as well as most vinyl flooring. Although most of the floors are clean and presentable (thankfully!), the still-damp areas of wood flooring in the living room and dining room most badly damaged by dog urine saturation cannot be sanded until they've completely dried.
- One third-floor bedroom has been completely refinished and we're (my friend Dan and I) almost done with plaster repair in the other third-floor bedroom, which can soon be painted.
- The old chain-link fence has been removed from the front yard; I've located some large rocks and need to collect about four times more before I can begin landscaping.
- The back patio has been cleaned up and I'm beginning to battle the weedy jungle that is my back yard.
- I've acquired a dehumidifier that runs almost continuously in the basement.
- As soon as we can remove the stained glass window sash, I have already hired an expert to repair the window for me.
- The kitchen is clean and fully stocked with a hinged window that opens once again!
- One second-floor bedroom has been gutted of its wall paneling and drop ceiling; I plan to have a contractor remodel that room in the next month or so.
- I've begun repainting the original house number, carved into a piece of stone that's built into the brick wall next to the front door.
Acquiring this house would not have been possible without the support and financial assistance of my parents, Robert & Kitty Jehn. I am also immensely grateful to Matt Goodman; Brian & Jennifer Hykes; Joanna Barr for lots of boxes; the Software Engineering Institute for use of the delivery truck (without which I would have been lost); my grandfather, Paul Herrle, along with my Uncle Dennis & Aunt Karen Herrle for support, advice, supplies, and Michigan yard sale hopping; my Aunt Betty Boyle; my real estate agent Jo Freedman; and especially Dan Wetmore, my partner in renovations, supply runs, and house visits all spring long, fellow wearer of dust and dirt, and constant source of motivation and optimism when I'm beginning to think that a millionaire or a Mr. Easy To Please should have bought the place instead. Dan, you are the man, and I mean it.
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