I’m a 40ish wife and mother of 2. I recently moved back to my hometown after 20 years away, and into the house my dad grew up in. The ‘new’ part of the house is 130 years old. While I like it here, there is a distinct possiblity that this was a very bad idea. Check back with me in January when the water in the kitchen sink is frozen.
It’s strange to be in Grandma’s house. It’s even stranger to realize how much of my stuff was originally her stuff. It certainly would have been easier if we’d just crammed some of her things (like the piano) into the attic in the time between when she lived here and when we moved in. Actually, Grandpa didn’t completely empty the attic when he moved out in 1980. In fact, I’m not sure the attic has been cleaned out since it was new in the 1880s. One of these warmer days, I’ll head up there and see what I can find.
Farmhouse Fling 
