In what seems like a lifetime ago, I bought a 1940s, wood frame, fixer-upper, house in Houston, Texas – with an emphasis on the fixer-upper part (there was literally a giant hole in the kitchen floor through which dirt was visible). To be fair, the house had been “remodeled” in the 1970s during which wood paneling had been installed on pretty much every available surface. My only real excuse for purchasing a house that even my realtor warned was “a money pit,” was that I was young(ish) and not very financially solvent – in other words, the house was cheap as far as houses go.
What made the purchase of this particular house even more inexplicable, was that I hated wood paneling, had always hated wood paneling (and still hate wood paneling). I was, though, energized with the rather romantic notion of remodeling and restoring the house to its pre-1970s state; something that turned out (as many fantastical remodeling endeavors do) to be more difficult than anticipated.
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