OH, dear readers -- I made the mistake of looking at a remarkable little house a few days ago that has me utterly smitten:
Built between 1805 and 1815, the house retains many charming features -- two original fireplaces, wainscoting throughout, etc. Its scale is beyond sweet -- the entire thing reads like the cabin in a ship, with ceiling just over 6'6" in height and nooks and winding stairs throughout.
The kitchen wing, with 5 windows on three sides overlooking trees:
Living room, with paneling and original fireplace:
One of the bedrooms:
And 2 inch-thick treads to the basement, bearing two centuries of use:
Overall, it's one of the brightest houses I've ever been in, with multiple large windows in each room -- of course, it needs absolutely everything, except a new furnace, which is new. The electrical system is terrifying.
Sadly, this post may well be a eulogy -- in the past day, the listing has disappeared, and I fear it has been bought. It was being marketed as a tear-down, which makes me want to scream. Yes, it needs a great deal of work, but once completed, it would be about as perfect a house as humanly possible. At least for someone of my slight stature -- I have always preferred spaces that cuddle with you.
It's one irreversible flaw is that it suffers from "first house syndrome" -- a term I've coined to describe excellent buildings that predate their newer, lesser neighbors -- but all in all, the neighborhood is pretty palatable. Nothing completely offensive.
Except, of course, whatever piece of crap the new owner puts in its place. Fudge -- this shouldn't be legal. Even here, in our ancient state, it's not as though we have an endless supply of untouched 200 year old houses.