The year was 1986, and I remember being on a date with my husband when I saw the Tom Hanks remake of “The Money Pit”. It wasn’t the best movie. It was a typical 80’s movie complete with a yuppie couple and a handsome yet sketchy eastern bloc baddie played by Alexander Godunov. (Everyone wanted an Alexander Baryshnikov in their movie back in those days.) As I say, the movie was “OK”. I laughed at the pratfalls, loose flooring and cave-ins. In short, it was the sight gags that made it passable. Of course, at the ripe old age of 20, I didn’t exactly understand the subject matter behind the falling beams. I missed the deeper level of black humor hidden behind the silliness. In short, I had no idea what it was like to own a home and then “fix” it.
Now I do.
Please don’t get the wrong idea. My house is not a money pit. It was, however, previously owned by a gentleman who did precious little to update it over the years. How do I know? Because my husband and I have systematically stripped it down, room by room, from ceiling beams to foundation all in an effort to update and upgrade it. It has been a nerve wracking and expensive five and a half years, but it has been worth it. We still have a way to go, but with every new tile, coat of paint, shingle and pipe this house feels less and less like the old man’s house, and more and more like ours.
You don’t know what true love is until you look at your husband from across a living room where everything is covered in a fine white layer of dust and a bank account of dwindling savings and think “I would still do it all over again.”