Auld Lang Syne

I like old stuff.  I've liked old stuff for as long as I can remember.  My Grandma had a flatiron as a knick-knack (along with other cool antique stuff), and I can remember marveling as a little kid that women used to heat it up over a fire and use it to press their clothes, all of the clothes that they had just washed in pots and dried on the line.  Yes, I used to play laundry, of all things, in my Grandma's living room.

I think liking old things might just be a thing that bookish girls of an age end up doing; when you start out your childhood pal-ing around with Laura Ingalls, then frolic with Anne Shirley on your way to meet Jo March and Elizabeth Bennet, I think it's pretty likely that the past and its trappings will always hold some magic for you.  Old places and old things fascinate me.  The daily objects of past generations have a patina that reflects the lives of strangers who seem familiar to me, and places that have been around for a long time tell the story I avidly want to hear.

I know that my house isn't THAT old.  In New England, I gather from This Old House (of which I've been a fan for decades, clearly), 100 years is beans compared to the Revolutionary-era structures you're just tripping over up there.  In Houston, though, the city where we can't even save the Eighth Wonder of the World, my house is about as old as it gets, and that's part of why I wanted it.  I was disappointed that the windows weren't original to the house (energy efficient windows that actually open and close? Bah!), and the house had been pretty thoroughly remodeled before we got to it, which was also part of why I wanted it, because I lack the skills or the perseverance to do my own renovations or repairs.  The house did feel old, and it had the bungalow look that set it in a distinct time period.  It certainly has that old house smell, which I love but probably brings my guests to tears, but other than that and the general size and appearance of the house, I could only blindly believe that my house is old because I wanted it to be.  Until now.

Boom!

My house is so old, y'all!  Look at that shiplap!  It's everywhere! My house is nekkid and it's clearly so, so old!

I went by after the workers left last night so I could get a peek at what they'd been up to, and I was so surprised and excited to see all this that I had to wait until today to calm down enough to write about it.  I've been to houses on historic tours (yep. That, too.) where someone did a remodel and left the shiplap exposed because they thought it was so pretty or rustic, and I admit I thought that was a bad design plan.  This, though, is just so beautiful, I can see where the impulse comes from.

Look at how the boards fit together!  You could spend hours at Home Depot (or whatever your favorite building supply store is) and not see boards this pretty and well made, even with drywall dust and who knows what else on them.  I guessed that either shiplap or plaster lay under our walls, but it's just so neat to see the house like this--it's like I'm getting a quick peek at what the house was like when it was built, which is pretty much the best thing ever, for me.  And then there's this:

WALLPAPER!  If you told me you were going to put some wallpaper in your bathroom that that had hot pink flamingos and water lilies on a neutral background with silver splotches, I would think you are unwell.  But because this is clearly OLD, I'm super excited about it and want to have it replicated in my own bathroom.  I spent quite a bit of time last night Googling "history of wallpaper" to see if I could figure out how old this paper might be.  I really did.  And seriously, I know nothing about wallpaper, so if you know whether having linen-like stuff on the back makes the paper a certain age, I would really like for you to tell me all about it.  There's a wallpaper museum in England, and I might have to go.

This is in the dining room.  I love it so much. Help!

In more practical news, it looks like everything that should be is well on its way to being totally demolished some time next week, which is almost as exciting as it is scary.  We're keeping the floorboards, interior doors, some siding, and some of the plumbing fixtures, and the guys are taking good care of those things.

Neatly stacked

Stuff that's not being saved is just being piled up in the rooms that aren't staying,

And windows are already gone from the North side of the house.

I spent roughly 43 hours (ok, only 3) on hold with utility companies this week trying to get power turned on to our "T-Pole" which will hold our meter until we have the part of the building to attach the new meter.  

T-Pole. Pretty awesome.

I'm not going to pretend I really know about this, but it felt good to be doing stuff to help until I saw how much the crew was accomplishing at the house.  I'm absolutely flabbergasted.  I'm going to have to make them some cinnamon rolls.  Using an old recipe, of course.