How I love an Excel spreadsheet!

My husband will attest to the fact that I have no love for budgeting.  My recent move from the workplace to staying home with the kids has nudged me in a more compliant direction in that respect, however.  Anyone who has ever worked with me can probably attest to the fact that though I don’t love budgets, I do love spreadsheets.  I also love designing new spaces from the floor up—floors, walls, tile, fixtures, fabric, etc.  This project, AKA our soon-to-be home, definitely calls for a spreadsheet.  And a budget, I suppose.

Thank you, Pinterest, for being there to store all of my design ideas as I have designed and planned and shopped over the last few months preparing for this project.  My apologies to my Pinterest followers if I have bored you with yet another post of a link to white subway tile, a 3-light wall fixture or a ranch gate that looks remarkably like the last one I posted.  Pinterest, which I once mocked as a waste of time, has, for me, become exactly what I think it was intended to be—a virtual pin board or design binder that I can access from my phone or computer.  It has helped me catalog ideas and keep track of where I found the things I like.  My Excel spreadsheet has helped me keep track of my more final choices and estimate costs.  My spreadsheet is full of formulas to total projected cost per room and the overall project of adding on.  As I purchase something, I highlight it on the spreadsheet so when my husband wants to get an overview of what we are spending he can see what we already have and what is left to buy.  I love that I have completely highlighted all the purchases for my one bathroom (blog post on the bathroom renovation coming soon).  (I also love that we will be adding more bathrooms very soon!)  Each time I highlight a purchase I feel like I've accomplished something.

Thank you, Microsoft, and thank you, Pinterest, for adding a little nerdy joy to my renovation!

On the Inside - Part II

With the house clean, we now can go about ripping things out (and making another mess).  

Job #1: the Bathroom.  

I had agreed to the move the country and to living in a small house while we add on to make it larger.  My only qualification to this agreement was the bathroom.  From day 1, our agreement was that the day Vacating Tenant was out, the one existing bathroom came out as well.  A gut-job was definitely in order.  I had no idea just how badly it was in order until we really got in there and started tearing out fixtures.

I had largely left the bathroom alone when I did my big cleaning.  It was just clean enough to use in case of emergency.  My in-laws’ ranch is only a mile and a half away, so most bathroom needs could be taken care of there with just a little planning.  (Of course, the guys just go outside and find a tree.)  We started with the vanity, which was actually in decent condition.  It just didn’t fit with my design plan.  It will get saved in storage for a future project—probably the barndominium I envision sitting across from the main house that will include among other things horse stalls, laundry facilities and a full apartment for long-term guests.  What we didn’t know was that this seemingly fine bathroom vanity had years of Q-tips hiding behind it—crusted and stuck to the wall.  I thought that was gross enough.

Then, there was the shower surround.

Once the bacteria-laden Q-tips were sucked into the shop vac, my husband, a pull-bar, a sledge and a saws-all got started on the shower surround.  His first discovery: trails of roach poo all around the top of the surround.  Seriously?!  In the handful of months Vacating Tenant occupied this home, surely he had taken a shower.  Had he really not ever run so much as a dust mop along the top of the surround?  Evidently not.  After removing the shower surround and pulling out the tub portion, we found something else he had never noticed. 

An actual rat’s nest. 

Previous Owner (or someone) had done some remodeling to the original bathroom at some point.  Yay, them.  When running plumbing to the tub/shower, they had failed to imagine that rats and/or squirrels could climb right in through their gaping hole around the pipes.  Thus, some furry critters had made a quaint home complete with fiberglass insulation and grass bedding and a plentiful food store of pecans.  The pictures don’t line up with my memory of the first glimpse of the nest.  I remember it much deeper and more imposing, but the picture was taken immediately upon my discovery so we will go with it.

My husband can deal with many things and various vermin—rats and rat-related mess not included.  Father-in-law and a hefty shop vac and some contractor-grade garbage bags stepped in to clean out the nest.  With the rat evidence gone, within a couple of hours the two of them had replaced rotten boards and installed a proper subfloor that would not invite in any unwelcome furry guests.

In all of this, we did make a wonderful discovery.  Shiplap behind every wall in the house!  God bless the 1930s.  Never again will I search for a stud for hanging heavy objects on the walls.  We already have plans to expose several sections, starting with a wall of open-shelving we have planned for the kitchen.

On the Inside - Part I

Our original contract with Previous Owner included a clause to protect the occupying tenant from being chased out of the house.  (He was actually moving in the day we first came to see the property back in July.  Pause here to be astonished at the amount of filth that accumulated in a few short months.)  The contract stated that the tenant would be given up to 75 days after closing to vacate.  He took every last one of those 75 days, so it is now November and we can finally get inside and start some work.

This little guy had apparently made his home in the kitchen.  I'm sure there were plenty of bugs for him to feast on based on how clean the sink, counters and stove were.

There is, of course, cleaning to do first because, wow—reference previous blog post regarding the astonishing layers of filth.  Vacating tenant’s definition of “clean” and mine do NOT line up with one another.  While the guys worked on more clean-up of the back pasture and the trimming of trees, I donned a mask and rubber gloves and got started on the inside where I found food still crusted in the sink and caked all over the range top.  409 and I got started on the kitchen counters as well.  I expected to need to spray them down a time or two, but the depths of the gunk ran deeper than that.  When the 409 suds turned brown after the first two rounds, I had to take a break.  And there was still the bathroom to clean.  Suffice it to say that after much vinegar and baking soda, wiping, sweeping, mopping, vacuuming, carpet shampooing and many trash bags later, we deemed the house disinfected.  Of course, we hadn’t removed any fixtures yet, so the best was yet to come.

This is after the first cleaning.  It needed 2 or 3 more to reach the liveable stage.

Tree Trimming with Tractors

Trailer Removal

No such luck on previous owner’s removal of the rat trailer.  Previous owner’s son came and cleared out his junk from the trailer (FINALLY), but the trailer remains.  My husband offered it for free on Craig’s List and got a couple of bites, but no one ever actually came.  The time has come to dispose of it one way or another. 

After a dry summer, the burn ban is lifted and the rain has come.  Thus, the preferred method of trailer removal has been decided—crush and burn.  The pictures really speak for themselves.  Welcome to the country, y'all!  Thank you, John Deere, for all your help!

After the burning of the trailer, only steel remained.  A guy who works with my husband came out and cut it up, loaded it on a trailer and took it to the scrap yard.  Given what was left, he probably walked with a few hundred dollars.  That would have helped our budget if we had done it ourselves, but letting him do it saved us a lot of headaches.

Clean-up begins

The house is adorable and in pretty good shape for a 1930s bungalow, and the property is laid out absolutely perfectly.  

HOWEVER,…

The tenant who occupied the house before us was less than an avid housekeeper—and that’s putting it kindly.  I hadn’t seen anything like this since college.  Remember the apartments and houses shared by groups of guys where there was always a pile of dirty dishes in the sink, dirty laundry on the bathroom counter and trash piled in the corner?  This was that.  Wow.

My daughters never went into the house when it was in its state of bachelor filth, but they saw the pictures.  I cautioned them both that if they ever encountered an apartment or house like that in their dating futures to RUN AWAY.  Extend a kind thank you for the date, and then move on.

In addition to the filthy interior, it appeared that there had been years of neglectful tenants who thought the back pasture that is so ideally laid out for the keeping of livestock was better suited to throw ALL of their waste—car batteries, dirty diapers, broken swing sets, old shingles, cracked toilets and even a tub of dishwasher detergent.  Perhaps that dishwasher detergent would have done well to be used indoors instead.  

Aside from the random waste in the back pasture, overgrowth abounds. My father-in-law couldn’t wait for me to take pictures before he got back there to start shredding some of the overgrowth; just know that it was dense.  There remains after the shredding about 50-80 or maybe more baby pecan trees in the southeast corner—offspring from the gigantic pecan that must be 300+ years old—as well as a few other trees, two animal pens including the makings of what will be a quaint horse barn, AND...

... the trailer of an 18-wheeler. Minus the wheels.  And it’s full of someone else’s junk.  And rat poop.  So, I’m thinking there are probably rats as well.  

We have contacted the previous owner regarding said rat-filled trailer and its contents.  Here’s hoping he says he’ll be right over to clean it out and haul it off.

Possible Reason #4: It's a dream come true.

I grew up in the city and suburbs and love the fast-paced urban life where there’s always something to do.  However, growing up even in this very urban and international neck of the woods, I was raised by a hard working dad from the country who taught me how to fish and shoot, how to build and fix things by hand and with power tools and who passed on a love for both worlds—rural and urban.  Now, here we are a good 50 miles from where I thought I’d end up but right where I want to be.  And now, it’s time to get to work…

Possible Reasons #s 2 & 3: It's time to slow down and it all started with free tickets

Possible Answer #2: It’s time to slow down.

I have never been good at sitting still.  Never.  I was really an excellent student and quite compliant all through school, but I still managed to get myself in trouble pretty regularly.  (I’m certain that if I was in school in today’s world, they would have wanted to medicate me despite my flawless grades.)  Nearly every report card I ever received includes a note or comment to my parents: “Your daughter is a very bright young lady and a joy to have in class, but she talks way too much!”  I did my work quickly and well, and when I was finished I needed something else to do (reference previous comment about not being able to sit still).  Thus, I would fidget or strike up a conversation with my neighbor.  My teachers did not appreciate that.  (What I never understood was that, as punishment, they would send me to sit out in the hall so that I would no longer have anyone with whom to talk.  They failed to consider that every other teacher who had a chatty student did the same, so we would all just sit out in the hall to talk instead.)

In high school, I took mostly Honors/AP level courses, worked 20+ hours a week, volunteered at church and kept a pretty busy social life.  College went pretty much the same way.  I carried 15+ hours most of the time and filled the rest of my schedule with rehearsals, student organizations, social activities, work, etc.  Then, I graduated and worked full time and volunteered.  Even when I stayed home with my kids when they were babies and toddlers, I filled my schedule leading Bible studies and playgroups and more volunteering.  It was volunteering that got me back into the work place.  I volunteered so much at my son’s school that they asked me to apply for a job.  That job was fun, intense and very busy, and I absolutely loved it.  I also loved that it was flexible enough to work only minimally in the summer.  However, I, of course, managed to fill my summers by being the swim team mom among other things. 

See.  I don’t know how to sit still.  Everything I do, I do completely.  I don’t know how to do things halfway.  I love to help people with their work and I love to do all of my work well.  That gets exhausting after a while.  For everyone.  I didn’t even mention that my husband has also run his own business for the past 10+ years.  Anyone who is or has ever been self-employed knows that you never get to slow down in that kind of position.  Between my full-time job, his self-employment, three growing kids, church, friends, numerous volunteer activities, the kids’ schoolwork and extracurricular activities, and the fact that in an urban/suburban environment there’s ALWAYS something to do, we’ve been going non-stop for years now.  9 acres is a lot of work, but country/small-town life is just a slower pace.  Maybe it’s time for our family to give that a try.

Possible Answer #3: It all started with free tickets.

So, put aside the family heritage and the I-love-history thing.  Forget the slower pace.  Maybe it all started with free tickets.  Seriously.  One day while sitting at my computer while my students were taking a test, an email came through via a church forum.  Somebody had tickets to see Brad Paisley that night at the Rodeo.  My neighboring teacher, also one of my dearest friends, suggested that my husband and I take the tickets and he (my friend) and his wife would watch our kids so we could have a night out.  Long story short, we got a high school student to babysit and the four of us went out together.  How does this have anything at all to do with selling my lovely suburban home and moving to the country, you ask?  Well, here it is:

When I first met my husband, I was thrilled to see that his CD collection was almost identical to mine.  Our musical interests ran the gamut from blues to classic rock to classical to Broadway.  There was an obvious absence of country music in both of our collections.  Regardless of what he might tell you now, he didn’t like it.  He could tolerate it but got no enjoyment from it.  I grew up on a wide assortment of musical genres, from Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin to Kenny Rogers and anything ever played at Gilley’s to mariachi music, the Beatles, Led Zeplin, Lighting Hopkins, Carlos Santana, Elvis and everything in between.  I grew up spending nearly every birthday at the Rodeo, so country music was in my wheelhouse but it didn’t dominate my iTunes account the way Elvis and U2 did (and still do).  It was really more of a seasonal or social interest though and not one I pushed since he really had no interest.  Brad Paisley changed all that.

We went to the concert that night, and my husband, a lover of fabulous guitar music and a guitarist himself, discovered that Brad Paisley was not just any country singer, but, as the inebriated gentleman next to us proclaimed throughout the night, he could really play the *!@% out of that guitar!  Never mind his incredibly clever and charming lyrics.  The next day, our joint iTunes account grew to include a number of country songs.  Over time, he started tuning in to the local country stations in his truck and discovered the wholesome charm found in the songs that told a story, the songs about trucks and tractors, and even in the homages to beer.  Because of that one night and those free tickets, he began to explore the culture of country music and realized that it really is as much a culture as is being Southern or being Texan.  It’s about hard-working men who love their wives and children and mommas—men who go to church, love America and drink beer, men who drive trucks and want to instill good strong values in their children.  He found a musical genre that fit him and a culture that appealed to him, and over a little more time, our iTunes account has grown to include scores of country songs and that musical influence has been part of what has led us to where we are now.

Now, I’m not saying we are moving to the country because of country music, but let’s face it, what we listen to does influence our actions.  Just look at the world around us proclaiming that “it’s just music” but denying that the stories of sex, drugs and violence that we see every day are completely unrelated yet shockingly similar to popular music.  In country music, there is a wholesomeness (not in all of it, mind you—there’s plenty of trash out there too—ALL things need moderation and discernment and a healthy dose of parental discretion).  There’s talk of a slower pace and enjoying family.  And that’s what we are getting with our move to 9 acres.