Plodding Along & Hoping for a Miracle

God! This cleaning, culling, and packing seems to be a never-ending task.

While I am seeing noticeable progress, I am still seeing all the stuff that needs to be done ~ stuff that hasn't even been touched yet.

Progress is like that of a snail slowly climbing out of a well, or a rat eating its way out of the bottom of a bag of dog food.

As I had hoped for, today I worked on culling and packing the stuff in my bedroom. It wasn't the quickest of processes. But it wasn't the slowest either.

In the end, I managed to fill up at least 6 large garbage bags and pack 6 boxes.

And there were also about 4 boxes of stuff that needed to be sold.

A short time into my upstairs cleaning blitz, the door bell rang. It was one of the fellows who called yesterday about the Neil's weight-lifting equipment.

Terry was a disabled and retired fire fighter who recently had hip-replacement surgery. He wanted something to help him in build up the muscle tone that he lost during his long convalescence.

Because Terry already had some weights at home, he seemed rather hesitant in wanting to commit to buy the whole weight set.

However, there was something else that caught his eye even more than the weight set.

It was the house.

It seemed as though Terry was quite taken in by the house, despite its very many obvious flaws, as well as the not-so-immediately obvious ones.

I gave him the price range that I was hoping to get, all the while pointing out the different things that needed to be done on the house.

I have never been one to sugar-coat anything, preferring instead to give a "warts and all" disclosure. After all, I want to make sure that the potential buyer is really serious about wanting to buy the house.

If the house's horror stories don't scare anybody away, then maybe ~ hopefully maybe ~ I may have someone who would be interested in making this house his or her home.

Anyhow, despite all the flaw pointing, Terry would counter with phrases like, "The floors are really solid. They're not plywood like in the house I saw in Marion."

"But if you go in the crawl space underneath and shine a light, you'll see light coming up from the cracks."

"Yeah, but you could caulk that."

"The house needs a new roof and new windows. The cabinets are sagging."

"Well, that's OK. The whole house would have to be gutted anyhow."

And then Terry proceeded to admire the wrought iron detailing and the wooden gingerbread on the front porch.

He went through most of the house, looking behind doors and asking questions, all while pointing out details that he admired.

He didn't go into Ariana's room, which he called the "snake room."

"They aren't going to get loose, are they?"

(Sounds like someone Neil could relate to.)

I made Terry a cup of coffee, and we chatted a bit in the kitchen. He was very curious about the history of the house.

I told him all that I knew, including about Florence, the ghost of the little girl who died of tuberculosis when she was 8 years old.

After all, a ghost would lend even more character and charm to this curiously colorful house, especially when that ghost was a sweet little girl who loved dogs and would occasionally slam doors.

I gave Terry the name and number of my realtor in case he wanted to contact her. And I also left him with my contact information.

Even as Terry was about to leave, he still lingered outside, taking in all the details, from the woodwork on the original doorway to the house, to the stone wall along the side, to the back field, and the 4-seater privy.

Then he went across the street to look at the house from a farther away vantage point.

I also pointed out to Terry that the vacant lot that he was standing in was also our property. And I showed him the back portion of the lot so that he could get an idea of what it looked like and how big it was.

Once again Terry was impressed, already dreaming of putting up a garage on the lot.

Dare I hope that Terry would be my miracle buyer?

I had another person express interest in the house, but after describing all that needs to be done, I never heard from her since. Not even something like "I need to give this some serious thought."

But unlike Terry, this woman never saw the property.

Terry saw the house and did not even flinch at all the glaring flaws. He looked past the flaws and saw this wonderful potential.

While it would not be practical for me to pin all my hopes on Terry buying this house, I will still be crossing my fingers.

After all, miracles have been known to happen. And often miracles have come from the most unlikely of sources. That's what made them miracles.

And isn't Christmas a time of hope and miracles?