"I Fell for a Huge Century Home in Need of Major Repairs"

This is something we can many of us can relate to!! I absolutely love this essay and wanted to share.

Published Tuesday, Aug. 23, 2011 3:29PM EDT

Robin Albrecht - Globe and Mail 

I swaggered into home ownership with the naive confidence of a first-time buyer. I had a down payment, a spreadsheet of monthly expenses and an IKEA gift card – I was ready.

After a few weeks of looking at well-built, renovated homes in my price range, I grew bored. These houses looked like everyone else’s houses. They had no heart, no character. They didn’t speak to me the way I felt my first home should. I wanted a warm, fuzzy feeling in my gut.

In that moment of weakness, I saw it – a listing for a century home in a charming town just 15 minutes outside the city.

“I like old stuff,” I thought. “I like charming small towns with fall fairs and friendly neighbours. They’d probably bring me a pie the day I move in!” How could I resist? A viewing was scheduled.

The warm fuzzies started as I drove down the street. The house sits across from a huge field and winding river. This field and its adjacent community centre are home to annual bake sales, community breakfasts and theatre productions, and the all-important fall fair. Images of being buddies with the locals and looking out my living room window to see livestock and midway rides flooded my head.

My real-estate agent made a valiant effort to bring me back to reality. “That river floods,” he warned as we turned into the driveway. I barely heard him as I gazed up at the sprawling white house with periwinkle trim. It was already whispering my name.

The front door brought us into a charming enclosed front porch flooded with sunlight. A turn of the glass doorknob (and a gentle shove of the shoulder) revealed everything I hadn’t known I wanted. Creaky hardwood floors, an exposed brick wall, a nook off the family room – perfect for my library and office – and the kitchen, a huge room with original tin ceilings, a functional 1950s Frigidaire stove and a view of the gigantic backyard. This was it.

I was ready to move in immediately, but somewhere in the back of my mind, a little voice prompted a home inspection. I was a knowledgeable and well-prepared purchaser. I knew about these things.

One week later the inspection took place and the results were (mostly) favourable. The roof would need to be replaced in a year or two, a shower wall was mushy and it seemed like some of the electrical work had been a DIY job. Over all, I was told there wasn’t much to worry about and it was a great, character-filled home. A real gem. I agreed wholeheartedly.

The three months before the closing date flew by. Paint colours were selected, furniture was ordered, room layouts were sketched onto many a sticky note. I experienced a few moments of doubt that I considered a natural result of making the biggest purchase of my young life, but was still convinced I had made the right decision.

The first time I really began to wonder if a 135-year-old behemoth of a house was the best choice for a single, 25-year-old woman was when we went for a final walkthrough. My brother pointed out that I wouldn’t be able to put a chair with wheels into the library nook because I would roll back over the home’s sloped floors. I noticed that every surface in the bedrooms was wallpapered, including the ceilings and inside the closets, and that the kitchen counter was abnormally low. I reassured myself that the house was sound, that these were cosmetic imperfections and I didn’t want a chair with wheels anyway.

A month after I moved in, every ceiling in the upper level started to drip when it rained. After hours of chipping decades-old wallpaper from the master bedroom and remudding the walls, water seeped in and effectively melted the work that had been done.

It turned out the previous owners had been less than truthful about their oil heating costs, and I had been unaware buyers can ask to see previous bills. Then an inspection by an electrician revealed $5,000 in work to bring everything up to code. And how had I not processed the fact that my laundry room was in an unheated addition at the opposite end of the house from my bedroom? Those pipes burst soon enough.

It was time to admit I had been blinded by the excitement, distracted by the charm and foolish to ignore the advice of those around me. What had I been thinking? Why hadn’t someone stopped me? In truth, my parents and boyfriend, co-workers and friends had tried, but I was too convinced of my own invincibility to listen. I finally understood why parents get so frustrated with kids who think they know everything. Because kids who think they know everything make ridiculous decisions.

Thousands of dollars flew from what I had considered a well-padded bank account. The roof was replaced, a gas line and new furnace installed. Empty paint cans piled up as I slowly worked through each room and made the house my own. I can stand at my oddly low kitchen sink and watch my dogs frolic in the yard.

A year and a half later, I have learned to appreciate, and more importantly listen to, the opinions and advice of those around me. I still look around and add tasks to a constantly expanding list of improvements. But my roof doesn’t leak, I can afford heat and I love the work I’ve done and the knowledge that my friends and family will stick by me even when I’m being unreasonable. The neighbours may not have brought me pie, but the house didn’t flood this spring and that’s good enough for me.

Robin Albrecht lives in New Hamburg, Ont
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How To Squeeze a Gym into your Small Space

Home Body: How to squeeze a gym into your small space

November 20, 2011The Toronto Star

LIZ BRUCKNER

The problem with working out in a small space is twofold: Quarters are tight and equipment is large. Thankfully, making a few changes to your home’s setup — and choosing strategically sized fitness gadgets — can help even the coziest areas yield a workout worthy of the gym.

Clear the clutter. The easiest way to transform a cramped living room into one that welcomes a workout is to move bigger pieces — like coffee or side tables and chairs — out of the way. “All you need is an area that’s six feet by six feet to get a good workout,” says Andre Potvin, Vancouver personal trainer and president of INFOFIT Educators School for Fitness Professionals. If you’re able to lie down without bumping into furniture when facing north/south and east/west, he says you’ve got more than enough room.

Pull double duty. Sometimes the key to incorporating exercise equipment into small areas lies in choosing the right multi-tasking pieces. Toronto-based interior designer Marisa Arpaia loves stability balls for this reason. “They’re great to use as a chair in a home office, and as an addition to Pilates, yoga and core-strengthening workouts. And because they’re easily deflated, they can magically disappear when company shows up.”

Shrink it. It’s not just furniture that’s downsizing of late — fitness gear is shrinking too. According to Dai Manuel, chief operating officer for Fitness Town, two products taking off for the home market are Power Plate Vibration Training, a machine that promises body toning and cellulite reduction in mere minutes a day, and Functional Trainers, a space-conscious multi-functional machine that offers a complete workout via hundreds of different exercises. “Both of these systems have been gaining momentum for the past two years as in-home fitness solutions because they’re effective and take up very minimal space,” Manuel says.

Think like a trainer. There’s a plethora of collapsible or compact pieces of fitness equipment that can be easily hidden or stored away, so channel your inner trainer and follow the ‘in the bag’ technique. “If I’m training a client in their home, I only bring what fits in my bag,” says Potvin. The pieces making the cut: a stability ball, two sets of resistance tubing and PowerBlock dumbbells, which are portable, compact and can offer weight equivalent to that of an entire rack of dumbbells. “Each of these pieces are versatile, easily stowed and ideal for an at-home gym,” he says.

Avoid the oversized. Unless your last name is Beckham and you have a large personal gym at home, think twice about cluttering up your space up with clunky treadmills, exercise bikes and elliptical machines. While some are folding and can be tucked away in a closet or even under a bed, in many instances, says Arpaia, these machines end up being used as an expensive laundry rack and not for much else.

Pass on fads. As with fashion, certain pieces of fitness equipment have a decidedly ‘flavour-of-the-month’ feel to them. “Kettle bells and medicine balls fall under the ‘not necessary at home’ category for me,” says Potvin. “They can be great fitness tools, but working out with them requires quality instructions about precise techniques before someone attempts to use them on their own.” His suggestion: Stick with the classics, and don’t waste your money — or space — on pieces that are best left at the gym.

See a professional. You’ve stocked your home with the best small-space equipment. Now what? “The most important thing I suggest people do when they’re trying to dedicate themselves to a fitness routine — in or out of their home — is hire a trainer,” says Potvin. Even if it’s for one session a month, you’ll not only be walked through proper technique, that single session can set you up for a month of training and ultimately lower the chances of you giving up on workouts because you’re not sure which moves to perform.”