If you’re just seeing this post for the first time, parts 1 and 2 are here and here.
I live in a 102 yr old house that is long on rooms (7 bedrooms) and short on closet space. It was divided into 2 apartments around 1929 (hello Great Depression) and we’re the first single family to dwell in the house since then. As a result, I have an upstairs kitchen that I really don’t need and a downstairs one. I have an old servant’s bedroom off of the downstairs kitchen that I use as my ‘closet/clothing room’. I need to gut that room and turn it into another office/studio space for my oldest son… and eventually a playroom/tv room for Maisie when he leaves. My master bedroom is directly off of the upstairs kitchen. I want to turn that space into my clothing room. Currently, it is a storage room for forgotten furniture and junk.
Woke up at 11:30 am, not exactly bright eyed and bushy tailed… not long after we’d woken up and I’d given the baby her breakfast, people started showing up out of the blue on my porch.
the first batch of Maisie’s callers today… this girl has a far busier social life than I ever could!
We had about 10 visitors today- Maisie had a fantastic time.
Got her to nap- FINALLY- and thought “wow, ok, time to start on the upstairs kitchen”
Nope. She woke up within 10 minutes of that thought.
Isn’t this cute? Apparently a 20 minute nap is all she needs to leave her refreshed and gorgeous. Wish she’d sleep MORE!
I was informed by R that he heard a squeaking/rustling noise last night in the basement when he went to do laundry. My youngest son confirmed it today when HE went to put clothes into the washing machine.
Great, we have a possible bat in the house. Not the baseball kind, either.
I can’t be sure, but this is what I envision in my head to be lurking in my basement
So I asked my oldest to watch Maisie while my youngest and I did laundry in the basement. I needed the boy with me as a witness just incase I was bitten by something and died of rabies on the concrete floor. Yes, I am a super chicken. I don’t care who knows.
I WISH this was my laundry room, but it isn’t- mine resembles a dark, dank, scary dungeon- with squeaky bat noises now
We did whites. I separated them and added the detergent and bleach while the (almost) 17 year old looked on.
C: “why are you separating the colors from the whites and why are you putting that stuff (BLEACH) in? I just use the soap”
Me: “That’s why your clothes look dingy when you wash them- you’re SUPPOSED TO separate them first and do this“
I shook my head at his comment, because I’ve showed him probably 102 times how to separate/wash these clothes. It doesn’t compute in the male mind, evidently.
We didn’t see any bats- but C could hear the squeaking and rustling noise. I am hard of hearing, so I could not.
I figure, if it dies in the ductwork I will have to call someone to clean the ducts- which I’ve needed to do for years. A potentially dead and rotting bat is all the impetus I need to finally call the duct cleaners.
After a couple of loads of laundry, I said screw it and hauled the boy to the kitchen upstairs. My oldest was still watching the little girl for me, thank goodness.
We threw out SIXTEEN huge garbage bags of things and old boxes, etc- and still did NOT MAKE EVEN A DENT in that room!
this was AFTER 12 garbage bags had already been taken out of here- the stove will be junked, too.
I have antique furniture stacked in there and there’s no way I can move that stuff by myself. We have boxes of old dvd movies and games- again, this is not my domain. R needs to sort through them.
there is no rhyme nor reason to the ‘storage’ in this room
I have a fridge and stove in there, too. I will junk the stove- let one of the scrappers take it- and maybe switch out for fridge for one my dad gave me that’s been in my garage for 2 yrs.
this room actually leads to another pantry full of antique linens and antique fiesta ware
I called it a day after we threw out the last 5 bags, etc. I think I will start on my clothing room downstairs (throwing stuff out) tomorrow instead. It will be easier to look after Maisie at the same time if I do that room. All of the things in my clothing room are MINE and I don’t need help with that.
Wardrobe to Narnia.
I am half-tempted to go there and leave this hell hole I call a house.