This Damn House

We had such big plans for this house. We bought 3D Home Architect and planned out our new kitchen. We bought every garden book under the sun, and planned out hostas and hedges, flagstone and lilies, and wrought iron benches. We window shopped for custom made Quaker furniture and handwoven oriental rugs.

We couldn't wait to get started on realizing our domiciliary dream.

Then three things happened in the first year or two that pulled the handwoven oriental rug right out from under our naive feet:

- we got pregnant with twins
- the internet bubble burst, sending our finances into a tailspin we are only just pulling out of
- we discovered that we don't actually like house- and yard-work.

So the years pass, and the house is now full-to-bursting with children and half-done projects. We don't so much have a "lawn" as a "[barely] domesticated jungle" that is the eyesore of the neighborhood. Once-white paint is grey and crayon-festooned. Our basement has been declared a Superfund site.

When nightmares descend upon Martha Stewart, it's our house she dreams about.

Fast-forward to the present. Our five-year-long involvement with the Mosaic Commons co-housing group has come to fruition, and the time is nigh for us to leave our erstwhile dream house. But before we can, we have to sell it. In fact, we have to sell it for a lot of money -- if we don't extract every penny's worth, we won't be able to afford our new dream.

And so the project begins. We have about nine months to turn this decrepit pit into the beauty we fell in love with years ago so some other more ambitious soul will want to make it their domiciliary dream. And we have no money and even less time to do the work.

Want to watch while we defy the laws of time and economics and make this happen? (Or fall flat on our faces?)