sniff sniff

I love old buildings. Houses, lofts, warehouses, cottages, barns, castles, huts; the older the better. I like to imagine their histories, the lives playing out within, the candlelight, the re-wiring with electricity and all the little adds and restorations that happen over the years.

I've lived in both old and new apartments and houses, and have always been more enamored of the old. Even with their creaking stairs, the strange low ceiling in the pantry, and the oddly shaped walls where some landowner decided the house would rent better if there was a wall here or there to create a bedroom where the dining room used to be.

Now I find myself in a big, old house built in 1925. It's a rental. It has three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a basement, a large kitchen and a garage (for the tinkerer, the mechanic, the One with all the Tools). It's great for lots of reasons: It's cheap, it's near a great part of town, it has a wrap-around yard, a laundry room, and lots of windows.

It also stinks. Like really. Not all of the time, but especially when the weather is hot and the doors have been closed for a couple of days. I picture a grumpy old man with thin, bony fingers who's only happiness is restoring antique curio cabinets in his basement.

While smoking.

A lot.

I picture his yellowed fingernails, and his wispy hair. Imagining is easy because I can smell him in the walls. This great old house with it's 1960's oven and ancient windows has moved on to younger tenants, but oozes those olfactory stimulators. There are even spots coming through the paint (in the few spaces we haven't reached with a paintbrush, yet).

And now I come to the question that all of this ranting stemmed from: If I have a house guest (a respectable, older sort of person with taste and possibly money and expectations) should I worry too much about the fact that even though our home is nicely decorated, and welcoming, and cozy... it smells a little funky?

Should I spend the next two weeks painting like a madwoman, emptying each room and using a sealant-slash-primer in the hopes that this will finally neutralize the odor?

I suppose I shall, if for no other reason than I live there, and it really is a wrinkle-your-nose sort of encounter. Not every day, but just one is enough to say, "enough."

My mind runs in all directions with thoughts of the renovations and restorations that could happen with old houses. Including the one in the photo...

(I know, it's crazy.)

photo courtesy

the chair story

Three days ago, and at long last, I re-covered the cushion on a lovely mid-century chair. I also made a matching pillow cover, and have spent the last three days noticing happily how nice it looks. It even seems more inviting to sit in. I would venture to say it's more comfortable, too.

The previous upholstery was a rather hideous green and yellow with white swirly scribbles, well aged, and in serious need of modernization. The new upholstery was not my original choice, but came in a close second with its multi-colored grey velveteen texture. It suits the chair. It's nice.

At least it was. Today I walked in to find that our recent house guest's dog had taken a goobery orange poo right smack-dab in the center of it. It was disgusting, and required some serious chemical attacks and cleaning with tactical assault weapons (scrubby cloths, water and 409). I had to put a towel over it so I could walk away.

I'm hoping for a brand spanking 'new' chair when I come home. I'm going to do my best to forget about the shocking disregard for my beautiful new upholstery. I'm going to sit right down on that chair and read my damn book.

As soon as it dries. And after I check to make sure the stain really is gone.