My hubby has been working on an old farmhouse…sigh not mine.
There are some many levels of depressing with that statement. There are 3 main reasons why this is so depressing to me.1) It was a beautiful old farmhouse with lots of functionality to it. I hate seeing old houses
destroyed…converted into something they were never meant to be. This place originally had gorgeous wood floors on the main floor, upstairs still has its wood floors but they are not nearly as pretty. It was originally 4+ bedrooms and 1 3/4 baths. All the rooms are/were decent sized. Each tenant that has lived/used it has sucked more and more of its character out of it. The thought of what it once was and what it could have been breaks me. I know, I’m a total sucker for old houses. I thinks its the fact that I see past the debilitated exterior and see the promise in it. Like it’s just screaming for someone to fill it with joy and laughter.
2) This place would have been a perfect fit for us if it wasn’t for its location. It had all the basics for us. We never would have had to seriously think about additions or such. The basement and foundation were in considerably better condition than our house now. It has a good sized lot. The garage is attached. The location? Right next to a busy highway.
3) Probably the most depressing thing about it is it’s not mine. Mine, ours, sits half finished. Projects have been “resting”, most over 4 years. Livable, but not finished and every day less functional.