Finally, we had a slice of the American dream: a 100-year-old Victorian fixer upper in the suburbs of New York City. There was insulation to yank from the rafters. Linoleum to peel from the floors. Tar to be scraped from ceiling tiles. My husband and I were new homeowners, with a vision for our derelict domicile, and an ambitious mission to renovate it environmentally.
That was three years ago.
Hundreds of trips to the hardware store later, I sometimes feel like a Home Depot refugee. These days me and the old house have sort of a love-hate relationship. (Some of you DIYs out there might know what I mean.)
I can spend long hours dreaming about what this place with “The views expressed in user comments do not reflect the views of Audubon. Audubon does not participate in political campaigns, nor do we support or oppose candidates.”