Home Is Where the Heart Is

My house is like the third little piggy's house... built of stone, specifically cinder block with plaster walls. The wolf can huff and puff, but he's not blowing this house down. When I had cable installed, the installer went through two drill bits to bring the wiring inside the house. I may lose my roof in a tornado, but I have a lot of confidence in the walls and foundation.

I've had occasion to bemoan the stone walls, particularly when wanting to hang pictures, but it has it's advantages. Besides its strength, it's impervious to rapid temperature change. And, the house has a heating system envied by most of my friends — radiant heat, which is basically pipes running through the foundation that circulates hot water from a boiler. I love it because, even in the winter, the floors are warm enough I can walk barefoot comfortably. It has beautiful flooring, which I love and is rarely used anymore. It's parquet tiles, made of real wood, much like a hardwood floor, but with the stability of a concrete foundation. Additionally, it has a working fireplace. I use it often, not so much for actual heat, but for the warmth I feel from looking at it. 

I literally fell in love with the house the moment I saw it. But, it is 80 years old and requires a lot of maintenance. It is precisely for this reason my father didn't want me to buy the house, although he never said as much to me. He knew it would require work, and that I was not handy with power tools. But, I can't help but feel, had he lived longer, he would have been proud that his daughter learned about home improvement the good old fashioned way... through necessity. 

I have to admit, the first project — replacing the tile in the kitchen — proved to be a disaster. But, I learned from it, and the main lesson was to research, plan and make sure I have the right tools for the job.  Needless to say, I understand the whole "Tool Time" feeling guys get. I have to admit, there's a bit of a head rush in handling power tools. 

My brother gave his tacit encouragement by giving me a tool carrier one year for my birthday. It's one of my most prized gifts. 

The main thing to remember, I've discovered, is that there is no real failure. Homes seem to be very forgiving. I may make mistakes, but in the end, it's all about the love I have for my home, the time I give to it and, ultimately, the pride I feel in making it a statement of who I am.

Home is where the heart is, and my heart is, literally, in this house. I can't imagine living anywhere else.