It’s natural to look at a home, even a neighborhood, and make assumptions. A yard might be littered with shingles that slide off an old roof. A paint job might be in order, and a carpenter clearly needed – but once guests step inside, they are sometimes surprised, even in quiet awe.
This is the case with my 1880 home. I lack the funds to do all that needs doing, so I compensate with the interior, where small steps can be taken for ten, twenty, fifty dollars as opposed to thousands. We are having guests next month, and I have an ever-growing to-do list that keeps me busy, and currently looks like this:
- Paint the mailbox
- Repaint the front door
- Wash all curtains, re-attach broken rod finial
- Wipe down kitchen walls
- Replace water-stained tiles on kitchen ceiling
- Raise height of dining room chandelier
- Nail up sagging porch boards
- Declutter entire side porch
- Clear and sweep back deck
- Make the art room a legit Art Room
- Stain the art easel
- Rebuild and stain the Green Room table
- Repaint inside kitchen cabinetry
- Wash extra blankets, sheets, pillow cases
- Lemon oil all wood floors
- Vacuum all rugs
- Clean/dust/polish all woodwork and décor
- Repair and reupholster chair 6 of 6
- Organize Entire Third Floor!!!
“You’re showing off,” my husband said. No, I insisted, I am not showing off. I am preserving a sense of dignity, keeping balance. I reasoned with him what I stated above. As bad as it is on the outside, it must be as good or better on the inside. Now he understands and won’t pick on me for OCD cleaning and house-healing, and hopefully my blogging friends will forgive my absence for a few weeks. I’ll be very busy, and I’ll be loving every minute of it.
So don’t judge a home by its exterior. Guests may notice chipped paint or a roof in need of repair, but what will linger is the paradox that awaits them at the threshold: the warmth, the welcome, and the life inside.
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