Anyhow, my long absence from this blog has not been entirely because I was mourning the loss of the clawfoot tub. It's because I have a serious case of Renovation Burnout. I mean, a serious case. Like, almost terminal. I have not done a damn thing on my house other than to maintain the usual state of untidiness and clutter since...oh, my...since August 2nd. Oops. I told my daughter-in-law that I'd taken a thirty-day break from the house. Hey, Sarah, make that a sixty-day break. Yowza.
Just how bad is this Renovation Burnout? Bad enough that I seriously contemplated chucking it all in and buying another house. Yeah...that bad. Not just any house, though. An 1845 Greek Revival that's six blocks from my house in another one of the four National Register Historic Districts in my town. It's a terrific little house. You can see for yourselves here. (The photos don't do it justice.) The two upstairs bedrooms are tucked under the slope of the roof and are cute as can be. The kitchen's really pretty, the hardwood floors are gorgeous (I wonder if Joey refinished them??), the rooms are all painted these warm Pottery Barn colors, and the downstairs bathroom even has a clawfoot tub. The best part is: the house is done. Done. Finished. Routine maintenance only. No painting to be done, no wallpaper to be hung, no glue-crusted floors to be refinished, no yucky 1970s bathrooms, no picture rail to hang, no light switches that don't work, and as far as I know no scary trap-door basement. (I have to end this list here, before I cry.) Tempting. And did you see the price?! Holy Buyer's Market, Batman!!
So then, I appealed to my friend John (a house appraiser and old-house-freak like myself) before I ran off foaming at the mouth to the realtor's office.
Me: "Talk me out of this, John. You know, like you did before."
John: "Location, location, location. You've got location where you are. There's a reason this house is down to where it is."
Me: "But I love her."
John: "Just say no!....To debt."
Me: "But I love her."
John: "Your house has one of the best locations you can probably get in Lexington."
John: "Sorry to piss in your Post Toasties, but you asked me to."
Me: "I know...but still, with all that said, this house makes me swoon. It's like being in love with someone I know is bad for me. I mean, I think it's like that. I certainly have no experience with that. Nope. Not me."
So I didn't go running off like a rabid chicken to the realtor's office. (Do chickens get rabies?? Christine??) And that's only partly because by the time I woke up Saturday afternoon the realtor's office was already closed. Today I'm safe, because it's Sunday.
Dear Readers, I appeal to you: One of you, please buy that house.