by Bella Rum

I’m following a blog about the renovation of an 1825 Federal. I love renovation blogs. In the early years of married life, I fantasized about buying an old, dilapidated house in need of love and renovating it. I could see my future children playing on the wrap around porch and a row of ‘Niko Blue’ hydrangea mopheads growing along the fence. These days, the thought of buying and renovating an old house makes me hyperventilate. The fantasy is all but dead. Thumbing through magazines or reading blogs about renovation adventures is about all that remains of that dream.

We went to the new house yesterday. We got a late start because we had to get supplies and run some errands first. H pulled out the drop cloths and brushes, opened the paint can of Nantucket Dune from Sherwin Williams, and that’s when he realized that he’d forgotten the ladder. Do you know what that meant? It meant that he couldn’t cut in around the ceiling. I don’t do ladders anymore, so I do all the lower work and the trim. He does the roller and the up-high work.

He found other things to do. He worked in his garage, made coffee for me, and put the bird baths in the back yard. He’d already put one of our bird feeders by the back fence on Wednesday. He’ll probably take the rest of them over today. We plan to get an early start today.

We’ve learned that the new house cools off quickly because it’s smaller, and all the rooms stay about the same temperature. That’s a problem we’ve always had with two-story houses. The second floor is always warmer. We don’t have two-zone heating/AC in this house. It will be interesting to see how well the new house cools when the temps climb up to the nineties this summer. I’m also interested in the bill. I’m hoping it’s considerably less.

H packed all the canned goods, spices, condiments, cereals. Everything! When I wasn’t looking, he cleaned out the contents of the entire pantry. I asked him what he thought we were going to eat until next Friday. “Oops!”

Things are moving along. I guess I’m feeling some stress because H said I’ve been stranger than usual in my sleep: arguing with people, picking at imaginary things on my clothes, making odd movements in the air with my hands. He said it’s a little creepy. I guess I’ll be antsy about things until the final closing on this house. I well know that things can always go off the rails until everyone has signed on the dotted line, and that’s the nasty little voice I must hear when I’m sleeping.