Saturday, July 5, 2008

West Side Story


Behold, the weekend's work! There's more done on the other side of the dining room bay, but I couldn't get a photo of the whole wall at one time. My neighbor's house gets in the way. My house doesn't look so big from the front, does it? Looking down the length of this wall is daunting. The theme from "Mission Impossible" sometimes runs through my mind. The clapboards on this side of the house are in really good shape, almost as good as on the front porch. So far, I've found only three clapboards that are cracked, and all of those are on the front of the house. The paint on this side of the house looks great too. It's hardly alligatored and in places still has a sheen to it. That makes me wonder the same thing Jan was pondering a couple weeks ago: The clapboards seem to be in good shape, why did they cover them? I thought back to John's wise words: "Maybe they were stupid, or maybe they just didn't wanna paint no more..." And I think it's a little of both. Maybe not stupidity, but just ignorance. Not knowing any better. Mostly, though, I think they did it because they thought they were putting on a maintenance-free exterior. The shingles have never been stained or painted, and based on how dry and curled they are on the less-protected parts of the house, it doesn't look as if there's ever been any preservative put on them, either. If the town's memory is correct (and it probably is) the people who did it live a block or so south of me now. I've seen them drive by several times to see what I'm doing, and I wish they'd stop so I could ask them why the Sam Hill they shingled such a pretty little Victorian. While I'm at it, I'd ask them if they're the ones who put that stupid Dutch door on the bathroom and sawed the original interior doors in half lengthwise. But then they'd probably admit to it, and I'd be standing there with a prybar in my hand, and things might get ugly after that.

3 comments:

  1. Hey, lookin' good! I'll tell you what my mom always tells me: "It's gettin' there." (Sometimes the desire to whap her one is almost uncontrollable, too.)

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  2. What a perfect title choice! Good work. The p.o. of the Fargo Fixer Upper still owned the place next door so I would have to interact with him from time to time. I could have honestly taken a pry bar to his forehead even before closing. That guy was an idiot!

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