When we last saw Kirby, she was trying to talk her husband into buying a house that needed no renovating.
It was not working.
The 'deal' I made with DL was that if we were going to buy a fixer-upper, it was going to be in the rich peoples' neighborhood. I KNEW that particular deal would freak Ebenezer out, and that he would say 'yes' to a brand new house. I was using psychology!
Little did I know, DL can still surprise me.
Once we decided on the neighborhood, I starting making a list of what I wanted.
1. It had to be a cottage. Something like this:
2. Bigger than this....
3. But smaller than this...
4. Not too plain...
5. But not too funky...
And it had to have a "vibe," like this:
A rich peoples' vibe, because we were in the rich peoples' neighborhood.
Then, one day I saw that "one of those houses" was on the market. You know the ones I mean...the 'Drive Bys.' You drive by them every few months to see if anyone has changed anything. The ones that make you say to yourself "I wonder what that looks like inside." The ones where you want to peek in the windows, but you're scared you will be arrested. I had been driving by Brandywine for twenty-five years, and finally I could LEGITIMATELY get inside! What a coup! So I called my realtor, who had been excruciatingly patient with me, and she made an appointment to see the house and two others in the neighborhood. At the very last minute, DL decided he wanted to tag along.
(Looking at houses with my husband in tow is another story for another day. It should be sufficient to say: plan on that being the only activity for the day. I can "feel the house" in ten minutes. He pokes and prods and lifts and scrutinizes and examines and basically gives the house a physical, complete with bloodwork. Sheesh.)
The first house we saw had the distiction of being part of a custody battle. In fact, the wife had taken many items with her--she got custody of roses, light fixtures, and the fridge. The husband was just trying to hold onto his sanity. The house clearly needed fifteen thousand dollars worth of work before anyone could move in, because there wasn't even any central air and it was May in the South. We crossed it off our list.
I could tell from the moment we walked into the second house that it wasn't going to work, because I started to sneeze and my sinuses filled up with gunk. I have that reaction to only two things: perfume and mold. When I saw the jacuzzi IN THE FAMILY ROOM, I was pretty sure it wasn't somebody's Evening in Paris causing my snot. We turned around and walked out (but not before DL made a beeline for the electrical panel. Why does he do these things??)
Last on our list was Brandywine. I knew it was out of our price range (by about 75 grand), but I figured that it would be another twenty-five years until it came on the market again, and who knew if I would live that long? I was determined to get inside.
And when I did? I was shocked.
Yep...another cliff-hanger in the great tradition of Charles Dickens. Or, as I like to call him, Chuck-Baby. Dickens is my man. Stay tuned for part three of "The Brandywine Story," or Kirby Keeps Tearing Out Her Hair Which is Why it's So Short.