We just bought a home that was built in 1920. It was dreamy, had character, and was the only one we liked in the time frame available.
We’ve slept in this house a total of three nights and I can’t help but think about how owning an old home is like having children. Here is why:
- They both leak. From mysterious places, and at the worst times.
- You’re up “working” on them late into the night.
- You’re parents warned you that it was going to be harder than you imagined, but you didn’t quite understand.
- You’re parents were right, but you don’t want to tell them.
- There are some stains that just won’t come out.
- You worry about them breaking down.
- They end up being more expensive than you thought.
- There are a lot of nooks and crannies to clean.
- It’s exhausting at times.
- They’re your responsibility. You can’t call the landlord, or the parents you think are more qualified.
- You like both hired and free help, but you don’t trust just anyone.
- sometimes they smell funky.
- You wonder if you made the right decision (just kidding kids!) but at the end of the day, you know you did.