And so today was my second day off this week. Of course, that means that tomorrow will be my Monday because, try as you might, karma cannot be fooled into letting you go straight from a weekend to a hump day without putting in your proper dues to the PITA Fairy. I have no doubt my come-uppance is sitting and waiting for me on the morn whenst I returnest to work.

I spent the last two days working on stripping out the old house. For those of you just joining us, our hero used to live in a small house at 212 Sherman St which is about 5 blocks from his current place of residence. It is a little white house, barely 1000 sq feet, situated on the backside of one of the blocks on main street, right behind the grocery store.

The house has an interesting history in that we don’t really know how old it is. It is clearly at least 117 years old, given that newspapers in its walls are dated October 30th of 1888. However, the abstract (which, interestingly enough, is only required by Iowa anymore) doesn’t go back to the construction of the house. Nearest we can figure, it is one of the oldest houses in Sheffield.

So, given that, it’s a real pity that it will be knocked down sometime this summer. But the fact is that the house has gone past the point of no return, and while that’s sad, there’s not much to be done about it. The frame is falling in on itself. Mold covers the upstairs walls and now the downstairs in places, too. The roof of the main section, burned ages ago in a house fire (which prompted the addition of the 2nd story and the front of the house), is now sagged under years of relying upon the charred timbers to hold it up and poor shingles letting in moisture. Bats occupy the walls and regularly escape into the living areas, the chimneys leak massive amounts of water into the house, the corner of the roof has now buckled and stained the inside walls with leaked water. Insects have a heyday in the basement, which is dirt crawlspace, and the floor is propped up in at least 5 places with stacks of lumber and block. There’s just no end to the number of problems that the house encompasses.

I wish it was a fixer-upper; that I could go in, strip it down, and redo it into a nice little place. If I could do that, I’d buy it and make it a project. But, at this point, it’s just not worth the money. You would essentially end up redoing everything.

My boss, who owns the place now, asked me to take out anything of value that I wanted before knocking it down, which I appreciate greatly. So, the past two days I’ve been in there, pulling and hammering and yanking and cutting, taking out all manner of things. I’ve moved none of it home yet, but right now am just stockpiling it in the centre of rooms to be moved out in a bit. So far I’ve managed to get both sinks and vanities, the hot water heater, the makeup mirror and lights, tons of outlets and switches and plates, some piping, a bunch of network and audio wiring, bunches of cupboards, doors, and shelves; the A/C unit that I purchased and installed, a couple of windows, and 73 red brick. I have yet to get more windows, another door, the furnace, and some other wiring and piping stuff. Most of it will have to take residence (somewhere!?!) in my garage for the time being until it gets used elsewhere, but I want to get it out and here so Kathy can proceed with demolition as she sees fit; I certainly don’t want to be the holdup on that one.

I’ve taken a lot of pictures of the house after I rip things out; will post them here once I get it mostly done. The house is glad to have me there again, I think, but at the same time it’s sad…or maybe just resolute, given its impending fate. No doubt it has been through a lot in its years and perhaps it’s ready to stop being empty, abused by time, and abandoned. I feel somewhat like I’m violating it; but at the same time, I think I’m trying to preserve what I can about it. The place has shitloads of character, which unfortunately will be lost when it is gone, but I still appreciate it. If nothing else, many aspects of it will live on in my and my wife’s memories of our times there and all the little things that still make us smile.