A House Of My Own

Moss

It has been too long since I'd felt the cool, softness of moss under my feet. I was early for the viewing and I couldn't help but slip off my shoes and sink my toes into the soft green growth. I hadn't even seen the house and I was already in love.

My shoes in hand, I walked the short distance back to my car. The small 4 wheel drive had kept me company for the last 3 years and she had trundled up the forest path without complaint. Another box ticked on my list of non negotiables for the new house. I was never letting go of dear Gretta.

Sitting on the front bumper I heard another car make the slow trek up the winding driveway. I waved at Lindi, my agent, as she parked and made her way over.

"should we go inside?" she asked, forgoing niceties.

"Lead the way"...

***

"It's definitely going to take some work, the owners haven't been up here in close to 10 years so obviously pipes and electric need to be inspected and likely replaced, but the price reflects that; Working fire place and stove heater in the kitchen/lounge area and attic bedroom. The back door leads to a small workshop, very rustic so don't expect much. But for the size of the land and at the current price, without negotiating, it's a very good deal and I'm sure you are up for a bit of hard work to get this place the TLC it deserves, no?"

Lindi seemed to speak non stop as we traveled through the house, hardly a house though, just a small cottage in the corner of the property surrounded by over grown weeds and grasses. The cottage opened into the kitchen that had a step down from the outside. It had obviously not been renovated for many years and the pale yellow cupboards and green patterned tiles half way up the walls screamed 70s and 80s but it has a charm to it. There were a pair of lace curtains in the window, dusty and mildewed with age and neglect but the sight of them made me realize that someone cared about this place once. In the same way I was beginning to care about it.

The kitchen had a doorway to the lounge/dining room area that had a large desk, piled with boxes and what looked like camping gear and gardening equipment. Obviously the last owners had not used this as a permanent residence.

Dust lingered on almost every surface as we stepped gingerly up the staircase to the bedroom. The lofted room was silent and dark. The only window was covered with a sheet and I could tell it would take a few trips up and down with a bucket of soapy water before it was safe to sleep in. But as Lindi kept saying "the bones were there".

Taking a last tour around the house and a small peek into the store room or workshop space outside we returned to the vehicles.

"We have one other interested party, a local who seems serious so if you have an offer I'd suggest you give it now" said Lindi, preemtively digging in her back seat for a clipboard and the paperwork.

"I'll take it at 5000 lower than the original price?" With all the renovations, my budget is going to be tight and I don't have the luxury of splurging.

"Well, I'll chat to the owner and see what they say, we'll get in contact with you once we have a decision"

"thank you so much," I smile, moving back to my Gretta, "I really appreciate it."

I start my car and wait for Lindi to leave before I begin the long trip back home to wait for some good news.