I finally got some before and after pictures of the kitchen organized– the only room done by a contractor and the only one that’s mostly finished. Before I post them, though, I gotta tell you about our Monday night. Chris got home a little earlier than I did and did some work on the side of our front porch. (I’ll let him explain what he did. It involves two-by-fours and a circular saw). So when he picked me up at the train, I hopped in the car and said, “how are you?”
Me: Why bad?
Chris: Because I found where all the ants are coming from.
We’d been having a little ant problem in front of the house…. There was a colony (is that where ants come from?) under the post. Before he left to pick me up at the train, Chris dumped some ant poison on the area. We came home to a lot of dead ants.
Can’t see them all?
There they are!
So, I’m on the phone with my mom, catching up and telling her how gross and funny the ants were. We were going to grill some brats for dinner, I was cleaning up the kitchen, Chris was upstairs scrubbing the ant poison off of himself. I hang up with my mom and hear Chris yell.
It’s not like Chris to yell in general and it’s definitely not like him to yell in horror.
Chris: There’s a bat in the house!
Me: A what? (I think he said “bat” but he couldn’t possible have said “bat!”)
Chris: A really big bat! (and the rest is drowned out by the sound of him running around the second floor, slamming doors and flapping blankets and yelling “Don’t come up here, you’ll hate it!!”)
He eventually shoo-ed the poor thing out to the screened in upstairs porch (which was probably its entry point in the first place, what with the holes in the floor and us trying to create a cross breeze by leaving the door wide open….)
Generally freaking out, but in a brave, guy-ish way, he went to the basement and came up with a 5 gallon Home Depot bucket, giant rubber gloves and a racquet. I followed him upstairs with the camera (while also generally freaking out, but in a shrieking, girly kind of way).
Chris: (on the porch, swinging the racquet wildly) I need a tennis racquet!
Me: Um, you’re holding a tennis racquet.
Chris: This is a RACQUETball racquet!
It’s hard to take a picture of a guy wearing a headlamp swinging a racquet at a bat on a very dark porch while also not throwing up.
Anyway, the bat is gone. Next project!
My husband and I fell in love with this 1887 Victorian as soon as we saw it. Before we could say, “but wait, should we really leave Manhattan?!?” the sale was closed and we were moving. We love the house, we love the neighborhood, we love having more space than we could have imagined in our NYC-400-sqaure-foot-railroad apartment, and we even (so far) love the commute. I hope this blog will help keep our friends and family informed of our progress, showcase our hard work and maybe offer some helpful hints along the way. We’re on a budget and learning as we go, inspired by the DIY-ers who have come before us. I’m pretty crafty — as in, I’m not afraid of a sewing machine, and my husband Chris is pretty handy — as in, he can fix a washing machine with a zip tie. We’re five months in with no end in sight, but loving every minute!