Peter and I bought our home back in 1997 shortly after we got married. It was a cute little house in a great neighborhood but somewhat shabby. We painted the walls when we moved in, Peter got us a new roof, and then…nothing. It had “good bones” but needed work.
Peter was never enrolled in the house even though he picked it, and I agreed it had possibility. We saw it on a Friday, and we were in escrow the following Tuesday. It was our first (and only) home we purchased together, and I was so excited to start our marriage in a cute little bungalow.
It’s tiny. 915 square feet and a big yard. People in the 1950s apparently didn’t own clothes. The closets are useless. And for someone who spent 16 years as a cabi fashion stylist…clothes closets are beneficial and keep the samples from collecting dust in the garage or the attic. And don’t ever think of parking an SUV in the garage. Not going to happen.
Remember the scene in “When Harry met Sally” when Sally’s friend tossed out that tacky wagon wheel table? I think that is how our marriage started – and I am sad to say I was responsible. I had lovely furniture that my parents gave me that didn’t really work in our little house. Peter had bachelor furniture. I took the week off and moved my stuff in first. He didn’t have a chance. And now, many years later, I am letting go of some of the really lovely furniture that didn’t quite fit but it was available at the time. In hindsight I wish I had let go of the furniture sooner and respected Peter’s opinion.
Bottom line – I loved Peter (in some ways I still do) but he was not excited about anything to do with the house.
I do admit, there was extra stuff around the house. Not hoarder conditions, but yes, I had crates of stuff piling up in my office from various groups I was involved with. And yep, I am constantly trying to keep up with “Mount Washmore laundry” and not the best of housewives but it wasn’t that bad. I just got that Peter was not invested in the house or our marriage and he preferred not to get involved.
So…fast forward to 2023. I got to keep the house – and I am very grateful for Peter for that. Additionally, my Dad left me a nice chunk of change to begin a renovation. Tons of stuff have been tossed out and there is now room to move items from the office to the garage. I am still decluttering and reorganizing but it’s sure a different space from just two years ago.
For the first time in 26 years I LOVE MY HOUSE! Seriously! This is huge! I never realized until recently as I started working on the house, that I finally love my house. It’s my home, hearth, haven and a sanctuary where my friends can hang out with me, put feet up on the coffee table, stay until they are tired, and I’m delighted. I have had friends stay over for the weekend, and it’s good.
Visualize this before picture: Old 1950s linoleum. Really old scuffed baseboards. Boring Swiss coffee paint throughout. Everything shabby. Worn out blinds. Dishwasher in avocado color and didn’t work. It smelled moldy and was so very ugly. The bathroom was corroded and oh, so dated.
Join me on my journey as I bring in new paint, new baseboards, shutters, flooring, rugs, lighting, furniture and tackle the backyard. It’s been a fun project and I love having friends over now in my comfy, cozy coastal cottage. It’s not quite finished yet…homes never are finished, are they?… but it’s a joy to be home.
Musings About Life 