After closing on the house, I was pretty numb to the world. People would ask what my plans were for the house, and I’d shrug. My plans blew up. I have enough money to buy some supplies at the hardware store and that’s about it. I didn’t even bother calling the utility company for a day. Whatever.
We had a fun little adventure our first day, meeting the neighbors. Later that night I called my parents to tell them about the crazy I’d done. “You’re coming down from an incredible amount of stress and trying to let it go. It’s pretty normal,” was my mom’s reaction to my ambivalence. My parents offered to send me some money. I asked them to only get some furniture if they wanted to help out. I didn’t want them going into debt for my new money pit. At least I could take furniture with me if things fell apart.
I ducked out of work early today to head down to the house before dusk. Brian and the kids had gone ahead, and Nicole came with me. We met our friends Jeff and Jim down there, who were having their first tour. Jeff offered us access to his tool collection, which is extensive. “There is no way in Hell you’re getting that organ in the attic,” he told me. Thinking about the attic door, I realized he’s right. Whatever.
We cleaned up more of the house and moved furniture. I inspected the damage from copper thieves in the bathroom. I mentally added it to the renovation totals. What’s $absurd plus $500?
Neighbors stop by to make sure we aren’t thieves. They’re delighted we bought the house and we chat about the neighborhood. Monica and Dorothia. A would-be buyer comes by, and becomes despondent when he learns the house is sold. I shrug inside.
One of the kids is in a huff, arguing over who gets one of the chairs in the attic. I nearly explode. I’m in no mood to referee a game of “dibs” over the pile of junk I just bought. DO SOMETHING USEFUL.
Darkness has fallen and only the light from our flashlights illuminate the house. Downstairs, someone is messing around on the organ. It’s nearing time to head home when my phone lights up. It’s my mom. They’re wiring me money. Yes, they’re sure. Yes, they can afford it. It’s a lot. A knot forms in my throat. My mental scales tip from impossible to improbable.
We file out of the house and stand out in the street looking up at the house in the twilight. The exterior looks a lot less severe when you turn down the lights.
We might pull this off.