I’m posting this from my phone; please bear with me through this trying time. You see, we’re moving. Well, moved. Mostly.
When we first visited this potential dwelling place, it was Norman Bates creepy. Outside, there was a deer head hanging in a tree, two deer carcasses with their guts in old dog food bags left out by the driveway, and a pond full of leeches. Inside, the carpet was rotted in places, animals had urinated all over(they had cats, dogs, bunnies, fish, a turtle, AND birds), and the back porch was dilapidated, buried under a good foot of kitty litter and excrement. On the first walkthrough, we didn’t let our children touch anything. They called it, “the scary house” and my son insisted it was full of monsters and ghosts.
We, my parents, and occasionally my brothers, have been spending every spare minute gutting, painting, and deep, DEEP cleaning every inch. The new owner had fresh carpet and laminate put in. We filled two semi trailer large dumpsters full to the tippy tip top with the junk the previous owners left behind. We have put a little blood, a lot of sweat, and at least a gallon of tears into this place.
My children are now impressed with the new look. My son has pronounced our house no longer scary, and ghost free. Apparently, a couple monsters haven’t left yet, but we’re working on it. Now they call it, “the Farm” or, “our house.” We have named the lone Canadian goose that likes to look at his reflection in the leech pond. He’s Prince Albert. Occasionally we’ll spot Benjamin, the lone bunny, nibbling his breakfast underneath the trees. It’s starting to feel like home.
Now to unpack a mountain of boxes.