Black Gold, Texas Tea

 We had struck oil!

In the front yard.
The house had an in ground oil tank firing the heating system that had been in constant use since the houses' construction 80 years earlier. Prior to closing these tanks must be removed by the seller with proof of no soil contamination. By the time the back hoe had been delivered we had been under contract for three weeks and the clock was ticking on the rental and mortgage rates. This needed to get done. But, we waited, and waited (three weeks than four) and no tank pull. To placate us we were assured it would be a clean pull. The top soil test was clean. The tank could come out on Monday we could close on Friday.
Monday rolls around, the yard is full of witnesses to the event. The city, the oil company's insurance man, the oil tank recovery contractor, All American Oil Recovery. Digging commences and at 12' feet below the surface the oil tank appeared. And it is a mother... 12' long, 4' diameter, 1000 gallon 1/4" thick steal (prices per barrel of crude in 1930 were approx.$1.50/barrel equivalent to $10.00 in today's dollars verses $118.00/ barrel today.) Fun filling up that baby, get your check book ready. The house burns 250 gallons a month.

Lets cut this baby open and see what's what...All American Oil Recovery handles these tank pulls with a synchronicity Esther Williams would have approved of.  Truck, tools and contractors arrive and depart seamlessly. The tank top having been exposed was cut open, drained of the 500 gallons still inside and then Jim, a man of approx. 6' 3" height  hopped right on in and scrubbed the inside of that thing. All parties thought "Hey, this just might be a good one".

Oh man... A series of 1" holes across the bottom of the tank. Everyone scatters.  I stand on the the side of the road staring at my future home that has just become an environmental hazard site complete with orange fencing. Two weeks later an even larger cadre of people descend, and more digging starts. One full day into digging (the original hole had to be filled in after the tank pull) the soil is still very contaminated.  The leaks had developed shortly after the house was built, men in the know were saying, and had been leaking for at least 60 plus years. I stare at the now 15' deep hole defeated   Bless Jim and his crew at All American Oil Recovery , "Mrs.Falls, we have seen worse and we have cleaned up worse, this will be fine". Hiding tears behind sun glasses. I drive home, we have no options. The rental lease is almost up. There are no other houses to buy, game over.

 At 2 in the afternoon the following day I finally man up enough to go over. 25' down and 160 tons of contaminated dirt later we hit clean dirt. One week to spare before mortgage rates reset and our rental lease ends we close. A photo finish.
And this is just the beginning.

It's What They Don't Show You...

Real Estate listings do just what they should, they hook you. The house is bigger, better a specimen of brick and mortar cared for through the years with love and attention and of course exquisite taste. We did not have any illusions. We could not see the house from the listing pictures or from the street. The facts we had were the house was brick, it had a slate roof, it was sound but in dire need of updating. Straight forward. But what fun is straight forward when you can get a peek at what they did not show.

The MONSTROUS storm door. (This picture was taken after four days of clearing) This beast weighed 75 lbs and had a heavy duty spring on it. As you tried to open the door, using the doll house sized handle, the door was fighting against you to close. You had to wedge your body between it and the door frame while still pushing the door off of your now pinned body as the storm door squishes you into the 4" thick oak door covered in at least 15 coats of paint and varnish. Getting in was proving to be a three man job. Salvation lay with the listing agent already inside the house. She had used a different door to gain entry and opened the oak door.  One person pushing the storm door out and the other pulling the door out you could slip in before the storm door propelled you inside. Welcome, you can never leave.

One of the amenities listed was a sun porch located directly off the living room. 

 

Again, four days of clearing have taken place that you can see this architectural gem and the lightening rod had been removed. The space was interesting. Holes were drilled thru the walls of the living room out to this space and electrified by interior use only extension cords stapled around the perimeter the walls. Leaks in the structure were evident, one errant water droplet and boom! The roof was corrugated plastic and the walls wood planks attached to the frame and lots and lots of silicon caulk. Silicon caulk  would soon become my sworn enemy.  A reason behind all the shrubbery perhaps?

Kitchens and bathrooms are house hunter porn.  I have always wanted a powder room. I like a place for everything and everything in its place. Old movies use them as beautiful flights of decorating whimsy. A proper and pretty a place where all my sophisticated well dressed friends would excuse themselves from witty cocktail party repartee to powder their noses.

Ah, such civility.

The people powdering their noses in this little spot.  I don't know that I want them in my house.

 

A very psychedelic green, white and silver papered powder room. The sconce, which you turned on from out in the hall, again requiring three people  to figure out how to turn the light on, had been painted white and the candle portion wrapped in the same paper. The sink and toilet were intended for use by nursery school students and the sink fixtures had a lovely patina.

But wait there is more, a mystery door. Where or where could it go? Straight into...

Queue Bob Barker...

Your band new state of the art kitchen!!!    A la 1958.

 No peninsula, but an entire suite of Waste King Universal 800 Imperial appliances and a really, really strong natural gas smell. We were assured the gas smell was “perfectly normal" for appliances of this "vintage". We had been told that at this  point in the tour, when most of the visitors had excused themselves. Perhaps it was the high quantities of gas we were inhaling, "this could be great" we thought. We pressed on. 

Great hubris or great vision we shall see.