Powering down…

We went over to put out one of the last loads of trash and shut down the house.  We only have a small amount of stuff to pick up from the house and then it will be empty.  So, there is no gas, no water, and no electricity.  My husband got to see the house in skeleton form – all framing.  He wasn’t as visibly upset as I was, but I’m sure it was sad for him too.  We also found two more bed frames in the attic (it’s much easier to see what’s up there now).

There is one wall standing in the living room, so next weekend we are having some friends over and demolishing that ourselves.  It will probably feel very final, but also very cathartic.

So now, where once there was a humming furnace, there is now cold.  Where once a faucet dripped, the sink is dry.  Where once a lamp shone, there is now darkness.  The house is shut down.

See Through

The asbestos is gone.

So are all the walls in the living room, bedrooms, bathroom, closets, and half of the kitchen.  I thought I’d be pleased to see so much work done, but on my way to the house, I started to feel a bit nervous.  I didn’t know what to expect… I thought I prepared myself by imagining what the house would look like, but I wasn’t ready to feel the overflowing sadness of seeing the state of the house.  And I couldn’t have come close to imagining what I saw.

Once the walls were removed, only the studs and framing were left.  Standing in the living room, I could see clear through the closets, into one bedroom, and the other, and into the bathroom.  And then I looked up.  There was literally just a roof over my head and I could see every nail for every shingle.

In order to keep the dust from the drywall contained, a liquid encapsulant had to be sprayed over everything.  This is great for safety as we’ll need to go back in the house, but with all the old darkened wood and the liquid dripping everywhere, the house had a feeling of one gutted by fire and extinguished with water.  I walked slowly through the house and instead of picking up tangible memories, I thought about all those I had a hand in releasing.  I feel a little guilty for tearing apart a house that held three generations, an artist’s woodshop, a family’s history, childhoods, memories, and so much love.

I know we are on a path to create our own home, but goodbyes are hard and endings can be so sad.

Passing the Plate

Well, we’re back from vacation and spent a suprisingly small amount of time talking about the house and what we have left to do.  Ah… relaxation.

With an extra day off before heading back to work, we spent time talking to banks asking about money, loans, and financing (and a whole new set of financial vocabulary) and figuring out just what we’ve gotten ourselves into… and how deep.  And this is what we’ve learned.

We can’t get a loan without permits.
We can’t get permits without a builder
We can’t get a builder without money.
We can’t get money without a loan.

Who comes up with this stuff?!?  Oh, yah, the banks.  And so we are left scratching our heads.  Okay, it’s not so bad.  I talked to the guy we’re thisclose to signing a contract with and he’s willing to take a partial payment and the rest after the loan is approved.  So you see why I like him?  Not only does he live on our street in Pleasantville, but he’s just a nice guy!  We just may be able to build this house and not eat a single bowl of ramen in the process after all.

Of course, if you have some spare change…