As we wait and wait for the multiple estates to be “figured out” in probate (my non-real estate lingo for what happens in an estate sale), we make little visits to the house. We detour by it on our way here and there, stopping outside to stare at it in all its (her?) splendor. Yeah that’s right I just decided It is a She. And she’s puuurdy. Or will be. Or is.
We take pictures and send them to the parents. We take pictures of the inside so we know the lay of the land by the time we get in there with flat bars and paint. We take pictures just to keep in our phones and admire (maybe that’s just me). And we take measurements so that Lou the architect can make Plans.
At first, the house was kind of a maze. There are several staircases and three floors and a large basement. One staircase goes from the basement to the first floor, which makes sense. Another goes from basement to the second floor and comes out in unexpected corner of the house. Okay, that’s for the second floor family’s basement access, I get it. But another staircase is boarded up behind a door so it looks like a closet and it’s out of commission and who knows WHAT the hell is up in that cavity but
we are Lou is clearing that shit out before we move in. The first two floors are normal and pretty much the same layout (minus staircases popping in and out of halls and closets) but the third floor is really kind of random, what with a few sinks in a few different rooms, including an old farm sink that looks pretty sweet, and a room with a makeshift shower,all under angled low ceilings.
But now? Every time we go, she gets a little less confusing, a little more familiar, and I’m really, really excited. And still scared.
A little bit of linoleum coming our way!