Remember that old commercial? I think for some kind of quick dinner-making item, where the husband marvels that *this* is the dining room? That’s how I was feeling last night, because for the last three years, my dining room has looked like this:
Now, this wasn’t the long term plan for my house or my cats. One of the main reasons I bought this house was that it had a nicely placed enclosed porch on the south.
And by enclosed I mean it had walls and a roof. It was by no means weather-proof nor cat-proof with gappy old windows and screen door that popped open in the lightest breeze.
So the first step was to hire a guy to reframe the walls and install my fancy new windows. (New to me, bought at the Habitat for Humanity ReStore for very cheap.)
That all got wrapped up back in April. And then… ducks
I spent a lot of weekends away from home addressing the duck issue. So it wasn’t until late July that I got serious about the porch again. Sheetrocking, then building a cupboard to store things and keep the cats away from the electrical box. Then a little cubbie/platform to cover the new heating vent and provide a spot for the cat drinking fountain. Then painting, more painting, and more painting.
Just like on the DIY shows where they don’t actually show the work being done, let’s do a time-lapse slide show.
Until finally, the cat palace was ready to be occupied. On Saturday, it was rainy and gray and the cats were completely unimpressed. They were annoyed to have been evicted from the dining room and not thrilled to have a new space to negotiate around dogs. When the sun came out Sunday, they began to appreciate what I’d been telling them all along–a sun porch is an ideal place for a naked cat.
And at last, I got my dining room back.
A creepy aside for Halloween. See this before picture of the porch floor?
When I first looked at the house before buying, there was an ancient chest freezer sitting there. It had been sitting there long enough that the floor had been painted around it on multiple occasions. The seller said it had been there when he bought the house and started renting it out. My real estate agent tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. He tried to recruit me to help open it, to which I said, “Are you fucking nuts, Tom? There’s a dead body in there. Maybe more than one. I wanna buy this house, not turn it into a crime scene.”
When I made my low-ball offer on the house, that was among my requirements. The chest freezer had to be removed prior to closing. It was and I did not ask whether anyone succeeded in opening it.