There's a house for sale across the street. We were lookie-loos on Sunday afternoon and walked in to a paralyzing cotton candy aqua blue. Other rooms were cotton candy pink, c. c. lavender, and then I either had a seizure or mentally blocked out the last color. I described this to my brilliant niece (who needs to blog some more but she just got a promotion so she is too busy) and she summarized the color scheme as "Elf Vomit." (Googling "Elf Vomit" only leads to disgusting Christmas decorations, but hopefully we can start a new thing here.) I think the sellers would not have had to reduce the price 40K if they had only painted everything a neutral color. Of course, there still were the multiple mirrors in the living room and dining room, the different 70's colored carpets in every room, and the funky additions.
We would love to buy a fixer-upper in the neighborhood, but this was too much fixing for the price. My departed mom's house looked better, even before the Handy Husband remodeled it. Since she never did much to it, she didn't mess it up too much.
The funky addition on my mom's house was a family room, added sometime before she bought it in 1970. The prior owners apparently did not care about codes: the studs were 24" apart and there was no insulation. And no record of the addition. The county assessor grandfathered it during the probate process. The HH fixed all the problems. My mom's house is now a new house in an old skin, and we will probably retire there.
Our own house had a funky addition: our bedroom. The original owner was into salvaged material. Some things in the bedroom are really cool: redwood paneling from a church in Lompoc, stained glass from a Stanford mansion (OK, I was told the glass came from a Stanford mansion and I have no proof or provenance, but it's still a good story), and a good luck horseshoe. It has strangely shaped closets and cupboards, tucked into nooks and crannies.
A confession: One cupboard has been screwed shut with a drywall screw because it contains a collection of adult videos we acquired from my late uncle's basement. Why did the HH resort to such a drastic containment? Hiding it from the kids? Or temptation?
The HH added his own salvaged material to the house (3/4" pine flooring from a high school in Arizona), repaired what was rotten (the pine deck outside,) and remodeled what needed it (kitchen and master bath.) Kudos to the Handy Husband.
There was some point to the end of this blog, but I inadvertently deleted it last night. Something about ugly wallpaper. I could go on for hours about that. So I won't.
The moral of this post must be: don't allow elf vomit in your house, or at least cover it up when you leave.