I think I live in a house built for giants. Or maybe the Papa Bear from Goldilocks.
While most things about the house are juuuust right, there have been a few little bumps along the road of getting to know each other. Because we were the first people to live in our last house, there were some quirky sides to homeownership that we didn't get the chance to experience until now. There were quirks in spades to that house as well, don't get me wrong, they were just different quirks.
The first thing I noticed while slaving away in the kitchen, finding nooks and crannies to stash more dishes than would be needed at a dinner party with the entire population of China, I noticed that the cabinets were a bit taller than I'm accustomed to. That's nice! thought I, to myself, we have the extended height cabinets! But then, as I was reaching up as far as my arm could stretch while elevated as high as my tippy toes could take me, I realized that I could just barely reach the third shelf. Making that extra special fourth shelf nearly equivalent to a trip to Siberia. Less cold though, the parallel has only to do with distance. So, we went to Lowe's and I bought a stool.
Then we went to unpack our wardrobe boxes and I noticed that the top rack of the closet, where traditionally I have stashed all of my purses is also located geographically somewhere around the latitude of the out of reach fourth shelf. So, I have determined that I shall have an upstairs stool and a downstairs stool. And judging by the closet heights in the other rooms, perhaps and office stool and a guest room stool as well.
We are living in a Colby-sized house and I feel rather like I've climbed a beanstock to arrive here.
That doesn't really have anything to do with the house having a previous owner, but here's one for you. Is there any way of removing those furniture divets in the carpet? Our entire house looks as though a terrible golf player has come through and knocked out chunks of carpet. In addition to that, bordering most of the rooms there is a nasty blackish residue that doesn't appear to be mold, but doesn't come up with a vacuum cleaner. My solution to both of these problems is to just rip up the carpet and put in wood floors, but I'm having trouble convincing Colby that this really is the most fiscally responsible decision.
In addition to that, the front door has a finnicky bolt and the bedroom is always about 8 degrees colder than the rest of the house.
But even with all of that, I still think that this is a really great house and can't wait to see how it turns out when all of the walls are painted, our pictures are hung, and cardboard boxes aren't functioning as china cabinets. Until then though, I need to go fetch a stool and find somewhere to cram the contents of these last few boxes. Too bad we aren't at the top of a beanstock, or I'd just pitch them off the side for some old farmer to discover and ponder over. I'm sure a load of Gone With the Wind music boxes and paper doll books would come in very handy on a farm.
