Hundred years of alterations means one hundred years of layering

Wouldn’t you know that one hundred years of alterations means one hundred years of layering. It takes guts to filet a heritage house. To find the delicate bones beneath the aggregated flesh. Yet this is where the beauty is oft hidden away. There may have been a trying moment when I stood under the low bathroom ceiling, surrounded by more than a few tall burly men, of different degrees of importance to myself personally and contractually, and said “Take it down, I would like to see. Please. I have heard your concerns and have weighed them, but I would like to go further down this path. Thank you.” To take down a house to the studs is not a whimsical desire, it is a lesson in belief. When you look at a heritage home you look at the outside walls and foundation. If they are straight and thick, well laid and well pointed, then there should be no qualms about doubting her interior strength. I was particularly pressed to do this exercise in this space here as my daughter is the youngest in our blended family and thus was handed the more modest room. Spatial redistribution happens to be a strong suit of mine. So I gave her the old master bathroom to live in. Yes I did. I just cannot wait to show you what this old bathroom soon-to-be-bedroom will look like before Christmas.