Unfortunately, the Character is Snidley Whiplash

Okay, December 1st (and it's supposed to reach the mid-70s today.  Hello?  Who broke the sky?) and I'm going to post every day, right?

So.  To those of you who have always longed for an old house, a house "with character,"  I give you this--things you hear contractors say when you can finally get one out to look at whatever has most recently gone wrong on your 100 year old house:

--"Never saw THAT before."

--(calling partner over) "You have got to SEE this.  C'mere."

--"Yeah.  This will involve punching holes in the plaster."

and , most recently...

--"Oh WOW."

Those words from the chimney sweep dude, upon looking up into our chimney.  Which, it should be noted, we just wanted cleaned.  We weren't even aware that anything WAS wrong (another bonus in an old house--surprises!)

When I first saw our house, I stood on the porch with the Realtor (tm) and called Steve and said, and I quote, "Unless there is a gaping hellmouth on the inside, we're taking it."  No hellmouth, per se (unless you ask Lara, but that's another story), but there was most assuredly a money pit.  But they tend to hide inside the walls so you can't see them.  They cover themselves up with vintage plaster and quaint woodwork and Character.  Bastids.  We'd hoped to retire in this house.  Which we love.  But the house seems to be making certain no one ever retires.  They just load up into an Airstream trailer and then go back to England.

That was the previous owners.  Everyone loved The Warrens.  "Oh, you bought the Warrens' house!"  We've been here almost 3 years and still it is The Warrens house (they only lived here 5, by the way, it's not like Old Man Warren was born and died here).  Woe unto them should they appear on our doorstep, for Steve would throttle the both of them.  It's like they hired set techs to do all the repairs.  They LOOKED good and sturdy, but after a two week run of the production, it all started to crumble.  Apparently, they now live in a 500 year old house with a thatched roof, somewhere near Bath.  Sitting there sipping tea, having a larf over slipping it over on the Yanks.  Limey Bastids.