a year in the estate: part ii

demolition

Kitchen demo

Demolition, at its core, can be a fun thing. You take a hammer and a crowbar, and where applicable, you just start swinging. 

Fun.

The reality of it is a bit more... shall we say, nuanced, than that.

In reality, you are demolishing things because they are too old to belong, they're wrong, or they just aren't part of the plan going forward. And then, AS you demolish them, you find stuff. Sometimes it's neat, like an old baseball in the wall or bits of bottle labels from the 30's and 40's. 

Sometimes, it's bad! 

Like a nail driven straight through the wiring in your kitchen. Or drywall on the ceiling, which was attached to metal beams that were then attached to plaster, which was adhered to lathing, which for some reason was hiding the only live knob and tube wiring in the house.

Half-bath and (new) pantry demo

Better yet, maybe you're demolishing the drywall hiding the chimney upstairs because you want to expose the brick. And as you're going through the demo on this, you realize that what you THOUGHT had been old water damage, that you noticed the first time you looked at the house but figured was old, and that when you looked at the house for your final inspection realized "hey, neat, they patched the water damage and painted it!" was actually ACTIVE water damage that the kids (I say 'kids' loosely as they're all in their 60's and 70's) just hid.

Water damage

A month after buying the house, you are now taking out an unplanned loan for an additional $36,000 so that you can replace your roof, your gutters, your soffits, and fascia. 

Surprise! Home-ownership! Yay, demo!

Roof demo

Just three weeks into owning The Estate, that was how the cookie crumbled. On the one hand, it was devastating because it was adding a pretty large monthly payment for me that I had not anticipated (though it was very much necessary and required). On the other hand, it was cool because that meant I had a new roof that wasn't a mossy-stained grey but was black, and I could replace all of that metalwork with thick, bold, black trim. It fits into the aesthetic I was going for; maybe a few years before I figured I would have to go for it, but all the same. 

That part was neat.

Balcony demo

Demolition continued on the roof, and what was supposed to be a balcony on the front of the house was never actually built to support a balcony. So that needed to be redesigned, and again, that's a perk of demolition. While it's not always fun and grand, it can also open up possibilities for what is to come. You learn how to pivot when you find the things you don't like, and you learn how to adapt to a change you perhaps didn't anticipate but ultimately appreciate. 

Anyway, let's talk.

It should be noted as to the reason why the house was updated in 1983 so substantially. The family had a pretty horrible accident Christmas night, where the Franklin Stove in the parlor ended up setting the attic on fire (chimney issue), and with that, the entire upstairs of the house was burned out. Nobody was injured, but it meant a couple things for the house:

- The entire upstairs was completely gutted and reconfigured into different rooms when it was rebuilt.

- They never did anything about some of the smoke damage (I have).

- The original back porch of the house was removed, and a massive addition was built in its place (basement included) that would create the lower-ceilinged part of the kitchen and the laundry room.

- All original trim and doors on the second floor were lost.

- The original trim in the downstairs bedroom (my office) and the adjoining bathroom were lost.

Laundry room demo

Demolition on the house lasted a SOLID three weeks, but in reality, it was on and off for two months (as work would shift to repairing ready areas). Keep in mind, by the way, I was not living in the house right away; I was staying with my parents. 

And also, for the record, this wasn't a "drop everything in life and work on the house" sort of thing, either. I still had (have) a full-time job, so housework was EXTRA work for Seanny. 

I'd typically wake up around 5am, get my coffee, and sit at my desk where I'd do my work as a technical writer for a software development firm. My parents would leave the house around 10am, heading to The Estate to begin work, and then I'd be there by 2:30/3pm when my day wrapped. We'd touch-base, maybe work in tandem for an hour, and then they would head home. I would stay, sometimes until 6, other times 8, and work.

In those early days, it was hard to stay late because it would get too dark to see, and there weren't many lights in the house. So you'd really just... do what you could do. In the beginning, it started with carpet removal. Apart from the upstairs bathroom, the laundry room, and 2/3 of the kitchen, the entire house was carpeted. That includes the two bathrooms downstairs.

Carpeted.

Old carpet.

Parlor demo

Do you know what happens to carpet when it reaches 60 years old? Or rather, do you know what happens to the carpet pad underneath it? With all that foot traffic, and spills, and whatever else you can imagine, it essentially turns into like... paste, against the floors. And you don't pull it away from the floor, so much as you peel and scrape it off.

Living room demo

All that being said, the floors arguably went the fastest. For the most part, the carpet just yeeted itself away from the floor, and upstairs, it was a cinch. The hardest part was the stairwell, where my father toiled away for a few hours because there were like... tac-strips on top of tac-strips (the little pieces of wood with nails sticking out that hold the carpet down), and each stair step and riser were a separate piece of carpet. It was a nightmare for him, and he was a trouper.

Which, lemme side-bar here. 

My parents? Amazing. 

They worked TiReLeSsLy for two months on my house, helping me with anything and everything they reasonably could. The carpet removal, plaster smashing and lathe pulling, the clean up (the constant cleanup), my mom specifically for first spending days on end pulling staples and nails from the original hardwood floors AND the stairs, and then spending days with a chemical stripper, getting rid of the 120-year-old shellac so that I could rent (for a second time) a giant floor sander to refinish the floors. Then my dad, specifically, for dealing with what probably sounded like insane ideas for lighting configurations and having to figure out the wiring for that, building entire walls of cabinets in the kitchen to match the ones I had ordered, framing in the insanity that was the half-bath and would become a half-bath/pantry (two rooms), building a closet where a weird stairwell had been that wasn't original to the house, and for just... all the things. 

All the tips and tricks and knowledge that he could give me. 

And for not yelling at me when I was in a snippy mood, which eventually became an everyday thing.

So mom and dad, if you're reading this (I know you are), thanks. 

You're neat.

Primary bedroom demo

As I said, though, upstairs, the carpet came out easily. This is the primary bedroom, which I would LATER (as in a month ago) find out had been an upstairs living room. Hence the asbestos tiling (OH, on that note, the floor in the kitchen actually was not asbestos, which was great and enabled us to pull it all up). 

Upstairs, different story.

Because of the fire in the 80s and the room being reconfigured, there were definite issues with the floor upstairs. Apart from the house being pretty unlevel in general, that is. The original floors had largely been replaced with OSB boards (those sheets of wood that have all sorts of small pieces of wood glued together), there was the asbestos tiling in a couple rooms, and then the back bedroom that was just all over the place. 

So later, if you're asking yourself why I carpeted the entire upstairs, now you know.

Guest Bedroom demo

When the floors were done, I turned toward wallpaper removal. I'll say right now that I didn't move in the best path for most of the house, as in I did things in an order that could have been better. I was nervous about the delay in getting the carpet installed, so instead of like... getting all the painting done and trim installed while the floors were gross-looking, I foolishly (only in that I had to be extra careful) had the carpet put in well WELL before any paint would go on the walls.

Still, upstairs was primarily wallpaper removal, carpet removal, and, of course, every single trim piece.

Stairwell demo 1

However.

There was the stairwell, which is currently an ongoing battle of wills, but we will start with this (which is now done). At the top of the stairs, the family had installed a door, probably in the 50s or 60s. This could have been for two reasons:

First, when the family bought the home in 1952, the entire upstairs was an apartment. This explains the tiling in the upstairs "living room," as well as the stairs in the backroom that led down to the side of the house and straight out to a concrete porch on the driveway (said stairwell is now the aforementioned closet).

Second, this family loved to entertain, but with 7 kids, the children sometimes had to go to bed when the fun was ragin'. So, a door to cut off the noise is helpful. I lean less into this theory, but that doesn't matter because the door is gone. 

I then broke down the framing, making it the ample open space it used to be. Several months later, in the fall, I continued my assault on the stairwell.

Stairwell demo 2

When standing outside, I thought it was odd that an entire portion of the house seemed to be "walled up" above the stairwell. That was valuable space that could be reclaimed, but I wasn't sure what condition it would be. This picture was taken after two things happened.

First, I poked a hole in the wall of my closet and shoved a fiber-optic camera through it to see. 

I couldn't see. 

So then I punched a 6-inch wide hole in the wall so I could shove my phone through; ta-da, the angled ceiling had been added in the 60s as well and had been present during the fire in the 80s (note the smoke damage on the right side). I cut the hole to be the size I wanted because, though you can't see it, there is a stained glass window in my bedroom closet, HIDDEN, and I want it visible from the stairs.

Secondly, I removed the entire ceiling above the stairs, which is why there is an angled green wall on the left and a (torn-up) angled wall on the right. Beyond that, everything you see on the walls and ceiling is all original wallpaper from when the house was built, which is pretty awesome, but it's in terrible shape (tissue paper thin, ripped, cracking, etc). 

This project is ongoing, so I won't have any photos of progress later. But it'll be super nifty when it's done, I promise.

Study demo

Back downstairs, only a few rooms had wallpaper, and it practically fell off the walls. This room was actually the primary suite because of the two closets inside and the full bathroom attached, but it would become my office (or, to be fancy, "the study") in due time. This room was the only one downstairs drastically affected by the fire (water damage) and had been redone entirely. 

It's a bummer because I would love to know what it looked like originally, but all I can figure out is that it didn't have the closets, and the full bath was just a half bath they expanded. 

Bathroom demo

This is the full bathroom, which had a floor in the worst condition of the entire house. This floor was not fixed until January, as removing the wood and putting some new stuff down wasn't as simple as just removing the wood. The floor joists to the right were actually 2.5 inches higher than the left, so I had to compensate for that. Also, the entire ceiling was sort of a "drop" ceiling in that it was suspended 13 inches below the floor joists due to some pipes for the upstairs bathroom. 

So that all was reframed, and now it just hangs 4" below the floor joists. Yay for higher ceilings!

Kitchen demo

Circling back to the kitchen, this room underwent the most dramatic transformation in the house. Apart from just two walls (an outer wall with the bay window and the wall separating the laundry room,) every surface had the sheetrock torn down. This was mainly due to the electrical issues in the kitchen and a lack of support for the new appliances I would be putting in (specifically, the induction range and the new oven/microwave combo). On the only wall that still had original trim (the basement doorframe and the doorframe for the half-bath (now pantry)), the sheetrock had been applied directly to the plaster and lathe, which meant the wall was flush with the trim (rather than the trim "protruding" from the wall, as it should). 

So that all came down, in addition to the ceiling I mentioned earlier. 

The lovely flooring you see here came up quickly, which was great. But then it was removing all the cabinets, the kitchen island, the plastic backsplash, the sink and dishwasher, the lighting, and this GIANT china cabinet/hutch/room divider by the back door. 

I donated all of the cabinets and the hutch to this nice older man who came down from De Pere; he was a widower and retiring and wanted to start his own woodshop. So that was nice. But his ugly little rat dog took a shit in my yard, so... there's that.

The dumpster

This was the dumpster we had, I think it held 40 cubic yards of waste? I dunno, if it didn't, we had at least that much by the end of this process anyway. My parents would take stuff to the dump, I would load my trashcan full, and eventually, I also had junk haulers come out. 

Notice the stairs on the right for the side door leading up to the back bedroom (formerly apartment). Those will get jackhammered off the house this summer (the roof is already gone from it).

I could go on and on about the demo, but that is best reserved for when the restoring_sean channel starts to cover it. I've gotta have content, y'all! In the meantime, hop on to the next blog and see how things began to come back together, with some sheetrock, a WHOLE lot of plaster, and more Sherwin Williams paint than I could ever imagine.

Next -------->

Go Back to Part I: Introducing The Estate

Continue to Part III: Reconstruction and Painting

Continue to Part IV: Current Looks

a year in the estate: part i

introducing the estate

So a year ago, as you may have heard, I bought a house. Technically, I bought my third house, but let's not split hairs.

But it's my third house.

Anyway.

I struggled a lot with what to make this blog series into. After I had spent a year in The Manor, I wrote four separate blogs showcasing all of the work that had gone into the house. You could say it was partly due to it all being so fresh and new to me and being SO PROUD of everything I had accomplished (mainly on my own) in such a short time. And in my mind, I held that "first-anniversary" thing as a standard for what I would need to do for this house. Write four blogs, show all the work that went into it, and then feel like I had gotten it off my chest.

The only thing is... love or hate The Ranch... I never wrote a one-year blog for that house. And in truth, I never really posted ANY before and after images of what I had done there.

You can blame that on how miserable I had become in my life at that point in general: 

- I had given up a character home that I loved (though in a neighborhood I did not love) to move into a mid-century house that was not at all my vibe but had become a panic purchase because I had nowhere else to go.

- On top of it being Covid-time in late 2020, my health was starting to spiral for a multitude of reasons (mental health, physical health with kidney issues, etc). 

- My romantic life was in a weird state of flux, getting back together with Andrew when perhaps both of us knew it wasn't the right thing, but it felt like the right thing, and still resulted in not-right feelings of heartache.

- I pure and simple hated my job and wanted to be anywhere but Minnesota.

So when you consider all that, there was just no celebration while in that house. It was a transitional home for me, getting me from one place to another, and I will let it exist as that. Ultimately, it made me a lot of money, and I am certainly grateful for that.

With The Estate, we come upon a different issue, that being the creation of restoring_sean and the very point of the corresponding YouTube channel (going over all of the changes I have made in each of my houses (The Estate included)), and the stories that create the journey of doing so. Giving away all of it in these few blog posts wouldn't draw people in for the content elsewhere.  

Where does that leave us?

Well, in hybrid-land! So to speak. Imma still give you FOUR bright and shiny blogs here, and while I'm not going to show much in the way of what the process was (truly, so don't ask), you'll get a great idea of where it was, where it had to go, and where it's coming around to now. 

Without further ado, let's get crackin'!

The Estate

I started my search for a new house back in January of 2023. With the listing of The Ranch imminent and the meticulously staged photos taken, I felt that it couldn't hurt to start poking around at houses back in the Appleton area. My long-time friend, Brenda, set up an MLS portal for me, and I kept a casual eye on it as the cold days of winter slowly strolled by. I wasn't going to be listing my own house until the middle of February, so there was no point in getting too excited over any houses that might appear. And as expected, none did appear. Lots of tiny old houses that were uglier than sin, none of them remotely fitting the bill of what I wanted.

I wanted to be in a character home again, in a nice neighborhood this time, with specific amenities I did not have at The Manor (like air conditioning). Then, a seemingly perfect, old, HUGE house popped up at the end of January. I immediately messaged Brenda and said, "Yo, home skillet (I didn't say that), I will come look at this house THIS weekend; this is perfect."

As much as I would like to say it was the only house I looked at when moving back, another house did pop up the next day (total shit hole (you could tell by the photos) but really neat with potential), and I also saw that one. BUT, I originally only wanted to see The Estate; this other one was just a "well, you're in the area, might as well," situation. 

SO Brenda set my appointment to view the house on Saturday the 27th, and we were cooking with gas.

I drove the five hours from Minneapolis to Appleton the night before, staying with my parents and then picking up my friend Tina in the morning so she could come and look at the homes with me.

The first one was a dud, as expected, and reeked of cat piss. I couldn't stand upright in the basement, the roof needed to be replaced before moving in, and the walls were destroyed... it would definitely be a very large, LARGE amount of work. Plus, the rooms were all super small, and it was right by the train tracks. 

We left, pretty light-hearted, knowing it wouldn't be the one either way. Admittedly, though, I was nervous that the next house wouldn't be either. 

We drove to The Estate.

The living room

Here was a house that just... when you walked inside, you felt it was special. Immediately. To the point that it took my breath away. Not necessarily with its beauty, because that part is only skin-deep, and this place did not have the most lovely skin. 

What it had was a warmth to it, and a history. Built in 1893 (though my sister and I would later deduce it was more likely built in 1903, based on land records), it had only ever had two owners. The people who built it, and the family that spent the last 70 years in it.

The parlor

The house had not been updated in a very long time (not since 1983 for the bulk of it, 1965 for the rest), but it had been loved. The bits that were still original were in good shape, and everything NOT original was also in decent shape. As we moved through the house, taking in the high ceilings and wide spaces, I just kept thinking over and over and over in my mind, "This is the house, this is the one, this is going to be mine."

The downstairs full bath

While aged, and displaying an underlying amount of work, to me it was the work I wanted to do. Updating and restoring, replicating the original trim from the rooms that still had it, and replacing the 1980's trim throughout the rest of the house. Sure, the carpet was 60 years old and felt to be about 3 inches thick, but that could be removed. Sure there was probably asbestos in the kitchen flooring, but that could be taken care of. In a word, the house was perfect.

The kitchen

The family that owned it had purchased in 1952, and raised their seven children here. Sadly the father passed away in late 2020 from Covid complications, and the mother passed away in August of 2022 from health issues, both in their 90's. I wanted the history of this place to be mine... I wanted to be the one to shepherd it forward, breathing new life into it while honoring the past, preserving what could be, and, in a word, amplifying what once was. 

Tina, Brenda and I chatted in the kitchen for about half an hour, both of them knowing I was in love with this place, and when we departed, Brenda had my offer in hand. I hurried off to Starbucks by the Fox River Mall, the one where I had written two of my books back in the day, and this time, wrote an offer letter. I'd never done this before, but I felt it was prudent. The six remaining children were in charge of (wait for it) the estate (hence me calling it that), and I wanted to appeal to their sentimentality by explaining who I was, what I came from, and what my intentions were with the home they grew up in.

The only downside was that I had to write my offer on the condition that my house in Minnesota, which was not yet on the market, would sell. I called my realtor, Chad, and practically screamed about The Estate and that we needed to list my house ASAP, which he did. I drove back to Minnesota that afternoon, daydreaming the entire way about what I wanted to do with the house when I got it. 

Paint the ceiling in the parlor black! 

FINALLY enact my dream of a house with a Dark Academia theme! 

Create a brilliant garden in place of the lawn!

I had a long weekend of waiting ahead of me, but I knew it was all going to work out. How could I not get the house?

And then... I didn't get the house.

To say I was crushed would be... not trying to oversell it here, but it would be the understatement of the year. I was utterly and absolutely devastated. In all honesty (as I'm prone to being), I cried.

I was supposed to get this place, don't you see?

The fact that I used my words in a heartfelt letter, that I wrote (apart from the one condition) a great offer with a downpayment and all, and that it was the first house I had wanted to look at (and not the 36th house like The Manor, or the 33rd house like The Ranch), it was the first. 

It was meant to be mine.

I decided that if that was how it would be, then that's how it would be... and I moved on. I left The Ranch on the market, figuring "what the hell, who cares," and decided I wouldn't look at any other house in Appleton, or really the MLS portal, until I had moved in with my parents and didn't have to write any stupid conditional offers. After my house was listed as a "coming soon" home, Chad drummed up a ton of interest in it, and by the time it was LIVE for showings on a Friday, I had my first offer within 24 hours and four more within another 24. 

Where I had purchased The Ranch in 2020 for $236,000, I sold it for $351,000 two and a half years later. The house was good for one thing: it made me a stupid amount of money. I would be closing and moving back to Wisconsin on March 15th, 26 years to the day after my family originally moved there from Southern California.

World Pride March on the Sydney Harbour Bridge

At the end of February came a long-planned trip with my best friend (and roommate), Jonathan, to Sydney, Australia, for vacation and World Pride. It was just what I needed. 

I needed to get away from the darkness of winter, from the sadness of losing that house (which I was still bummed about), and I needed to cross something off my bucket list in life, which was to visit Australia. For a week, we had the absolute time of our lives. There's no other way to describe it. The trip was perfect and beautiful, and it was everything we wanted it to be, PLUS more than we had hoped it would be. And then getting to be there for World Pride, the first time it had ever been hosted in the Southern Hemisphere, was also exceptional and memorable. 

When it was time to sadly pack up and leave, we went to the train station that would bring us to the airport. There was a whole lot of hijinx and hilarity that got in the way of making it to the airport, with trains that didn't exist and then taking the wrong train and sweating like a couple of pigs in the Sydney heat and humidity while lugging suitcases and backpacks, but we made it. And then, a funny thing happened when we were sitting in the airport.

I got an email from the MLS portal letting me know the house I wanted was back on the market.

I just about shit my pants.

In a flurry I was emailing Brenda and my lender, Carolyn, hunting for clarity as to if this was true or not. With the time difference (Sydney is 16 hours ahead), it was nearly 5pm back in the midwest, but my friends came through for me. Yes, the house really was available again, the approval letter was issued, and my newly improved offer (and hastily edited letter to the sellers, which (truly) now started with "Me again!") was submitted. Offers were being presented in an hour. 

Was this fate?

Sitting down in Sydney for our nearly 16-hour non-stop flight to Los Angeles

We took off not long after my offer was submitted, and the flight home was not nearly as exciting as the flight to Australia (where I had Delta One, and Jonathan had Business Class (notice how we're sitting in steerage with the poors here)). When we landed in Los Angeles, after a flight with no Wi-Fi, my phone dinged with a message from Brenda.

"Omg I just woke up to the text u got the house! I had to literally read it 3 times. Just give me a call this morning so I can go over the next steps."

The next two hours of escaping the plane, then the baggage claim at LAX, then getting back through security to literally SPRINT to the plane to Minneapolis, coupled with signing documents on my phone, reaching out to my lender, my parents, and my financial advisor was all just a blur. But in the end, after a lot of stress and anxiety and tears of frustration over... things... I won.

I won what I should have won the first time around, but what mattered now was that I WON.

A week later, Jonathan helped me pack up a moving truck, and I moved back to Wisconsin, loading my entire life into a barn at my parents' home and settling into my old bedroom. Two weeks later, I met Brenda at the title company offices early on the morning of March 27th.

45 minutes later, I left.

The Estate was now mine

I drove straight to the house, and I walked through it with a level of excitement (and also looming dread over how much work there was) that felt just so good. I moved through the house, taking photos of every room from every angle because I had not done that in The Manor or The Ranch. 

Stupidly, I did not video-record walking through, but that's beside the point. 

Idiot.

The point is, for the first time since The Manor, I could walk through my brand new house and introduce myself, taking my time to smudge the home with sage and get to know it a little bit. And then, as is customary, I propped my phone against something (in this case, the piano bench that was left behind), and I took my first selfie in the house.

Hello legs

Two days later, we started demolition.

Next -------->

Continue to Part II: Demolition

Continue to Part III: Reconstruction and Painting

Continue to Part IV: Current Looks

let's talk about restoring_sean, llc

I own a company.

Surprise!

I could just end the blog here and mosey along but no, oh no, I've got things to say. And while yes, I do say most of them in the YouTube video at the bottom of this page... the one that'll take you right to my shiny new YouTube channel where you are MORE than welcome to subscribe... it wouldn't be me if I didn't write a bunch of it out too.

So, hello, I am me and this is who I am, and I now own a company called restoring_sean, llc.

Doing this (as in starting an interior design company, a YouTube channel, the instagram account, and subsequently putting myself out there more than I ever have before), boils down to three main points of interest:

     - I've always been someone who loves to share a story 

     - I've always been drawn to design

     - I've always loved the "behind-the-scenes" of how something came together

With all three of those points combined, not only am I Captain Planet, but it also only took me 38 years to figure out what I wanted to do with it. I think to explain how I came to it, let's start at the beginning.

1. Sharing Stories

Four years old and showcasing a flair for dramatics

I asked my mom the other day, at what age did I start coming up with stories? And not necessarily ones based on fact, but maybe... if I spent time with Melanie Burgner down the street, how did I recount that time? Were there some whoppers you detected because I was giving too many details? She couldn't remember me lying (I was good at it), but she said I was probably in the 4-year range. 

Sidebar though, she reminded me that Melanie and I would paint rocks and then go door-to-door selling them down the street, so I guess the entrepreneur Capricorn in me was always ready to make a buck.

By elementary school, once I knew how to read and write proficiently, I loved doing a good book report. What was MY take on the story? 

What picture could I draw to go with it? 

How much could I impress the teacher with my spin on things and creative flair? Usually, it was a lot, though you could also attribute that to being a teacher's pet and always needing people to like me even from a young age, but we're not going to get into that here because it's probably something best left for therapy whenever I decide to go back but I feel like I'm getting off-topic and perhaps sharing a little too much about my inner thoughts and issues and maybe I should just get back to how I tell stories unless you count this as telling a story in which case hello and you're welcome.

10 years old, with a bowl-cut and snazzy soccer uniform

Now, let me be clear on something, I was a total liar as a kid. It was never to be malicious by any means, but DAMN did I love telling a story (usually based on truth) and elaborating on it to the point of (what I hoped) people saying "Holy smokes, what an amazing experience you had!" And I'd nod and think "hell yeah I did," and I'd sometimes tell these stories so frequently that I even started to believe them myself. 

I don't think it was because my life was boring, I just didn't know where to aim that energy of the fantasy world running through my brain at all times.

The wealth of fantasy dried up when my family moved to Wisconsin in 1997, and it stayed dry for a long time. I don't assign that blame to anyone; I think it was just a growing period for me, and in some ways, it was time to put away childish things. I didn't have the kids around me anymore that I'd grown up with, so expressing that silly side (playing Power Rangers in the backyard and getting to be the Pink Ranger, specifically) simply evaporated for a few years. 

Two and a half years, to be precise.

October 1999

Because then I met Katie. 

And through Katie, my fantastical imagination was sparked. Not immediately, but within 8 months, my energy turned to writing what would be the first of four books in "The Onyxus Chronicles" series. I know I praise her a lot for this, but really, it was our conversations about nerdy things like being witches and loving science fiction and fantasy adventures and all the things... it was those conversations that ignited the creativity in my mind and turned me down the path of sharing stories differently.

Towards the end of 2011, I started the blog for Musings of a Self-Proclaimed Author (named partly out of spite for someone telling me all the things I wasn't) because I needed an outlet to share things about my life. I needed to get what felt like the world off my chest, and in doing so, felt it would start moving me in a direction far away from who I was and toward who I wanted to be. 

Which was someone honest. 

Not that the little toe-head liar was still a big part of my life, of course, but I had just exited a toxic relationship where he (and I) both did fair amounts of lying. For my own part, that lying led to more than a fair amount of heartache, and because of it, I instead wanted to pursue a life led by truth. 

Truth first, and absolutely no lies in the blog. 

Ever. 

And I've stood by that because with a certain humorous approach and maybe some soul-crushing insight into my experiences, that's entertaining enough for people to read. I don't need to lie about things that didn't happen, life is thrilling on its own.

August 2014

Fourteen years to the day after starting my book in a red spiral Mead notebook, I was a published author. A year later I released Episode II, two years later came Episode III, and then after another five whole years came Episode IV to wrap it all up. There were more blogs peppered along the way... outlining my moves from Wisconsin to Texas, then Texas to Minnesota, then buying my first house... then my second... and then a move from Minnesota to Wisconsin. 

And now here we are, and now you know about me telling stories. The real ones (blogs) and the fantasy ones (the books).

2. Passion for Design

My SWEET (...) bedroom in 1999; notice the super advanced computer I started writing my book series on

As a kid, I was a big fan of rearranging my bedroom. A BIG fan. Once my older sister Megan got me started on it, I was hooked, and I'd screw around moving my furniture almost every month. Something could always be made to look "better"; you could slap some puffy paint on an alarm clock to dress it up, or use your markers on a lampshade! 

Artwork? Hang it! Don't like where it is? Move it, hang it again!

Don't worry about the 800 million pin-holes you're leaving in the wall! Who cares?

But this was how it was, from roughly age 7 onwards. It definitely picked up when we moved to Wisconsin (and, as previously said, I didn't have as many friends to occupy my time as I did back in California). It was also a bit of a new world because I could have a TV in my room and the old family computer, and that meant there were spaces for entertaining (me and whatever friends came by to watch something from my comprehensive VHS library).

The routine was that I'd silently (or loudly) rearrange my room, and when it was done (re: a showstopper), I'd get my mom to line up outside my door. I'd hold out my hand and say "Tickets, please," and she'd place an imaginary ticket in my hand, then I'd whip open the door and reveal the grand reimagining of my bedroom. She'd smile and laugh and nod, and then go about her day. I'd be left feeling fulfilled and with a sense of accomplishment.

My bedroom circa 2002/2003 in super-trendy red

As the years went on and I grew up a bit, my focus turned to painting my room. I "helped" my mom paint my (new to me) bedroom as a Freshman in high school, and then I repainted it two years later. And again, two years later. And once again, like... three years later. 

I was hooked.

Same room, same wall, circa 2005

Please Note: I'm not showing these pictures for the sake of "trust me, I know what I'm doing!" I'm showing them for the sake of "hey, I've been doing this for 28+ years and clearly I've (thankfully) only gotten better."

It wasn't just an instance of "I'm tired of this color and don't want to look at it anymore." It was that I wanted the entire vibe to change. Usually, paint was the easiest way to do that, but when I was older and working (and inhaling credit-card debt, admittedly), it meant I could achieve those fresh vibes for a room through new furniture, too.

When I got away from clothing retail and working for Express, I began my journey with Pottery Barn. I'd lived on my own for a bit by then, but my sense of "taste" hadn't really turned into much other than what it always had been; putting trinkets (lots of glass bottles) around, occasionally some framed stuff, and when I could, adding new lighting. And candles... gotta have those candles.

Pottery Barn changed that.

I started learning through work that there needed to be a method to the madness. Sure, you could like a vibe, but what was the actual theme that would aim you toward the vibe? And how would you achieve that in your space, re-using what you HAVE and not necessarily replacing everything? I learned there was a reason behind everything, primarily using thought and intention. And sometimes, the answer didn't come immediately; it needed to be researched. 

At this point in time (2012), Pinterest had become a thing, and it was such a huge catalyst for change in the design industry. Suddenly, design felt accessible, y'know? What you used to have to hunt down through catalogs and watch on television shows, you could now search for on Pinterest and be shown a million variations of the thing you wanted to see. 

Anyway.

A few years later, I started buying houses, and we all know how that went. 

With my first house, The Manor, I was very vocal about my work. I shared photos along the way and, every now and then, a video to reveal something exciting about the design. I wanted everyone to see and marvel at it all, mainly due to the significant changes from what the space (whatever space it was) had been before, and what it was now. 

It was rearranging my bedroom on a grand scale, having the power and ability to share that with the world... but consistently backing away from going full-tilt because I always... for whatever reason... felt like it didn't matter. 

The Estate design board

Before I knew it, I was 37 years old and drawing up a massive design plan for my newest house in a software system. I devised a plan encompassing every Sherwin Williams paint color for the house, telling a color story that would move through the rooms, back to front, and then upstairs to finish it off. I developed curated themes for each room, coming up with the small, whimsical details that I wanted to not necessarily hide in them, but to place and leave for people to find and hopefully notice when they visited.

It was in the last few months that I started to realize this was the direction I wanted my ventures to turn toward, designing not just for myself but for others as well. And why for others? 

Well... that's because suddenly I felt like a kid again, standing at the door, asking for "tickets, please."

3. Show and Tell

The Estate's kitchen when I purchased the home

I love the process, and I love talking about the process, and I love sharing what the process looks like. But it's not really fun to write about in blogs, because something is lost in translation, y'know? So I shared the stories with the people I see in real life. And while up til (mostly) now, the work has all been for me, in the last few months, it has also been for other people. As friends get more comfortable with asking these questions (rather than the "oh, you'd be willing to help me with that?" but more of "Say, can you help me with this room?"), I get more and more determined to want to do this. 

Part of my joy with renovating spaces and restoring them to some form of glory, even if not the exact form they had originally been in, is seeing something come to life again.

After working at Pottery Barn for 10 years, I knew that everyone having or controlling that vision for their own space simply didn't exist. It just doesn't. Even in my own family, I remember watching how frustrated my mom would get when they were designing the details of their own home because she couldn't picture how it would all look in the end. And that's not a bad thing, being unable to envision it, because it allows people like me to come in and show.

The Estate's kitchen a year after I purchased

To me, the final 'look' of a space is only as good as the amount of work it took to get it there. Not every room will be a "gut it to the studs" project, I know, but nothing is ever as simple as "slap some paint on it and BOOM, done!" either. 

It takes more than that, and I'm so excited after 6 years of taking pictures and videos of my houses to be able to talk about it more in-depth, to have a forum to do so, and to have it all organized in a way that I can tell a coherent story, from start to finish (at least with two of the houses).

And as for the YouTube portion of this, in what should be considered a surprise to no one, I love being on camera. We know that.

I was an early adopter of selfies in 2006 when MySpace changed everything. Shortly after, I created the multiples, filmed a year of my life, and tried (in vain) to create a video blog back in 2013. Then, I turned the multiples into video form. Then I got real big into Instagram, and on and on and on. I'm comfortable being on camera... call it the storyteller that was always looking for an audience or the youngest of 3 that was always trying to get the most attention. Combining my love for stories with my passion for design and my need to show how I do what I do makes sense to do it in front of a camera.

So, getting down to brass tacks here. Owning restoring_sean is a two-faceted entity: 

1. A YouTube channel devoted not only to the three houses I have owned, renovated, and restored but also to my continuing work in design as time moves forward.

2. An interior design company that I can use for working to help prospective clients.

I have worked toward the YouTube channel for a decade now, but never really figured out a format (or reason) to get it off the ground. There had been a brief moment in time when I thought I was making the transition to video blogs instead of these written ones, but that crashed and burned with all the other off-the-cuff ideas I had conjured in the past. The difference between then and now is that I HAVE a purpose and reason for doing it, and it's one I think people will enjoy. 

And I don't mean that people will enjoy it because it's me on camera, not by any means. I believe you'll enjoy it because people tend to love the before and after process of home remodeling, and I think I can inject a certain amount of levity and humor into it as I go along. Once we are "caught up" with present-day work on the house (I have roughly a year of content before that happens, though), then it will turn to more DIY projects, possibly client projects, and who knows what else in the grand scheme of things? 

I don't want to put too tight of a bow on this project because it will evolve and change a bit, as all of them tend to do.

For the interior design end of things, that's a little different, as it is the 'literal' business side, and it's a full-service job, too. It begins with the consultation process, then moves to the space-planning tool (like an aerial 3D map of the space I'm designing) and mood board based on what we discussed for the project and where I think it should go. Beyond that, it's project management, but that depends on the scale of what is going on (sourcing contractors, permits, installations, shopping for product/decor, additional needs of the client).

And then, in addition to the design end, is the installation services portion. Need a gallery wall hung? Shelves? Drape rods? Need a room painted, fireplace mantle built, lights installed, cabinet hardware changed, new furniture built, rooms re-arranged? I'll do it, usually with a smile (one that required braces twice, thanks) on my face. 

There is a whole menu of services I offer and if you need something done that I either cannot do, or simply won't (don't ask me to do plaster work), I will find you the person who can. Conversely, if you need installation services outside what I offer, I'm certainly open to talking about it.

The future feels bright with restoring_sean, and I feel very optimistic. That alone is a really great feeling, when a large portion of the last several years has just... not been that.

Currently, there is no website, but eventually there will be as I become more established in this arena. I need to pound the pavement, so to speak, and get some more work under my belt that isn't just my own housework. That's when I'll feel comfortable launching that portion of the equation. Trust me, though, it'll come.

Because in the end... it has all come to this. Everything over the last few decades has slowly funneled toward what I want to do with my life, and that's so awesome. I still want to be a world-famous author, sure. And I still want to be discovered by a talent scout while shopping at Target and be put in an Oscar-winning movie, of course. But this is a bit more attainable right now, and ultimately, it's something I enjoy.

Frankly, it's something I'm good at.

So, with ALL of that being said, below is the very first video from my YouTube channel: Episode 1 - Introductions. I will post new videos every Wednesday going forward, with additional content appearing on the @restoring_sean Instagram page (typically content related to the video for that week). There will also be random updates and special videos drawing light to specific events in life or that pertain to the current discussion. The point is, content is coming (after promising it for over a year and a half), and I'm really, truly, very excited to share it.

Until then... click like and subscribe. Let's be friends on this new journey together (c:

a year in wisconsin

It's wild when you look back and see how far you've come in a year. There's so much that can change, shifting and rearranging in a myriad of ways. Not just in your house (of which there was plenty of that) but in your life in general. Moving away from a state you spent 7 years in, saying goodbye to some friends and hello to others, and watching those dynamics transform across the board. Some of it is sad to reminisce about, with not everything making the transition as perhaps I wanted, unscathed or not. Other bits are quite thrilling, with things working out better than I could have anticipated. And I think, in the end, it's the yin-yang of life that balances it all out.

Still sunburnt (tan?) from Australia, and tired, and driving for 5 hours.

In the fall, I wrote a blog, opening at the close, part ii, where I spoke to the uncertainty over my decision to move back to Wisconsin. Kismet aside from moving back to the state on the same day we originally moved here from California back in 1997 and the symmetry of it being 26 years later and all my bullshit regarding 26 Golden Things, was it the right choice? Seeing as it had only been about 6 months since moving, the jury was still out, and I said that I needed more time in order to really feel like it was the right choice.

It wouldn't be me if I didn't say the jury was still out, because it is. Sorry 'bout it. 

There's still no definitive answer, but I do lean toward it being the right decision for the time and not one that I regret. Opinions on timing change frequently, don't you think? It's a good idea sometimes to eat a huge bowl of ice cream at 9pm, and then the next morning you realize, hey, maybe it wasn't a good idea. I'm happy I don't feel that way about moving. I think someday I might move away again, but a lot of circumstances would be very, very different for me when that day comes, and I can't speak with total assuredness of that. 

Part of me still believes strongly that someday I'll move out of the country, but that would also be after certain life events transpire that I'd rather not think about. 

Traveling will suffice for now!

But no, apart from all that heavy stuff, it has been a great year. Four blogs about the house are dropping in two weeks, so I won't go into that here, but the year in Wisconsin started with my purchase of The Estate. It was a relief to take ownership, but it was a long, LONG, long nine months of working on it before I felt I could really take a step back and chill the fuck out. The year moved in interesting ways because of all that time spent on the house. 

In some fashion, time slows down in Wisconsin. Not in an "I hate this place because it never progresses and the world still does!" way because really, we're pretty incubated here in the Fox Valley from the crap going on elsewhere. I mean it in the sense that things just don't move or feel like they move as fast as they did in Minnesota. Sometimes, that's for the better because you can take it easy and enjoy the smaller things; sometimes, it's for the worse.

For the worse in terms of how I miss the access to concerts and the airport (honestly, the airport) and some restaurants, but all of that occurred so randomly and infrequently in my life that you can't be that upset about it. The trade-off comes from my original motivation in moving back to be near family and old friends, and I wouldn't discount that. I wouldn't give that away at all.

The other good that came with moving back, apart from friend and family relationships (because this is about me, after all, geeze), is that I've started turning my focus back to writing and the creative endeavors I used to crave so much. While work on my books has, to this point, not continued, the blogs have picked up speed, and I am very much on track to beat the 18 that I wrote back in 2015. 

By the end of March, I will have written 10 this year already (!!!), beating my results of the last 8 years. It feels great to actually want to write for myself again.

The other creative endeavor gets launched on March 27th, and there is a whole blog to write about that as well. Suffice it to say, it has been a really long time coming and a really huge amount of time spent figuring out what I wanted to do. Follow @restoring_sean on Instagram, or search restoring_sean on YouTube, and maybe subscribe to the channel? That's the only hint I'm dropping here on that! 

In a lot of ways, March is turning out to feel like a landslide is finally coming down the mountain I call my life. It's been there the whole time, stagnant, and over the last year, has shaken itself more and more loose. Now, a mere 12 days ahead of the big reveal of everything, I feel like it has taken on a life of its own and is just mowing down everything in its path. For better or worse. 

I honestly think about nothing else and it's driving me crazy, so... it'll be good to be free of it and be able to talk about it.

Sittin' in my kitchen a year later.

What living in Wisconsin all boils down to, in my humble opinion, is ease. 

I find it easy. 

I know where everything is, I rarely need my map; I live 14 minutes from my parents and 25 minutes from my sister and family. I live with one of my best friends, and several others are within 15 minutes of my house. The Estate sits on a quiet street in a community working very hard to update and upgrade itself. My job is good, my hair is good, if not crazy (natch), and really... life's just good. I could complain about several things, sure, but how else are ya gonna keep it interesting?

Ciao for now (c:

the february update: fourth edition

I think it's safe to say that this has been one of the oddest, if not THE oddest, February's I've ever had in the Midwest. For example, the snow is entirely melted outside, the sun is shining, and it is 60 degrees. And today's not the first time it's been this warm this month; it's been reaching this temperate a few times, and when it's not, it's been hanging around in the low 40s and mid-30s. Balmy, all things considered. I remember back in 2012, we had a week in March following a snowstorm that dumped like 13 inches on us, where it was in the 70s. I was laying out on a beach towel in a swimsuit at my parent's property, getting a tan. Also that year, because of the warmth, it jumpstarted the growing season for trees and such and ended up ruining crops for cherries in Door County because, as it is custom to doing, the weather slingshotted around and froze again not long after.

But I will enjoy this while it lasts. Birds chirping in the morning, leisurely walks through the dark and into the gym, and some Vitamin D to remind us that natural spring isn't far away.

I took advantage and started chopping my trees down.

The part I don't enjoy is how badly this makes me want to start working on outside projects. Some of them can get going (cutting down a couple trees and space planning for what's to come), but others (painting the house) need to wait. It's stressful enough, pricey enough, and hard enough to paint your house as is. It's worse if the paint freezes before it's had a chance to cure properly, and it ends up peeling off the siding. That would just about make me wanna die.

February, in large, was a quiet month for me. For the most part, I spent it acclimating to Andrew as my roommate, getting into a routine with the gym, and working on the downstairs full bath in the house. Outside of those things, I didn't spend too much time away from the house, seasonal depression still being a thing that I succumb to.

Andrew moving in meant that it was time I came through on my vow to join the gym. We found a great deal in town at a local facility, saving a good chunk of money by signing up as a duo (couple (though not a couple)) instead of a single plan. I guess the best part about the place is that it's directly across the river from my house, so it only takes 3 minutes (literally) to drive in the morning. We've each screwed around with the times of day to go but settled on 5am being the best as it's sparsely occupied, you can use the equipment you want to, and the gym doesn't smell bad yet.

Trust me, it's a thing.

I've been going 5 days a week, only taking this past Friday off because I was too worn out. The first week was tough on me, just getting back into lifting any kind of weight in a controlled manner and not, y'know... heaving doors up the stairs or painting walls while clutching a gallon container to your chest for hours at a time. But then it got more manageable, and then I downloaded an app to help guide me in the gym, and it got harder. Today was legs, and I'm already in an uncomfortable amount of pain from that. But it'll get better.

What has not gotten better about this little adventure is my weight. 

A year and a half ago, I was (falsely) diagnosed with Meniere's disease, an inner-ear condition where your body does not properly convert sodium into potassium and ends up storing fluid in your ear that causes vertigo. 

Basically. 

In reality, since you can't actually TEST someone for the disease but can only go off the symptoms, I've decided the symptoms were caused by TMJ (I grind my teeth at night, and my bite-guard had broken a couple months earlier) and stress. I was just purely and utterly fucking miserable working retail and living in Minnesota and going through heartbreak and all that stuff. 

So anyway, not Menieres. The thing is, they prescribed me a diuretic (a water pill) to help get rid of the sodium. At first, it was fabulous because I dropped a few pounds and felt terrific. 

Then I never got off of them because you have to wean yourself off or else risk severe health complications. Cut to now, when I AM getting off of them, and am gaining weight at a pretty stupid rate. I know your body goes through a sort of retaliation when you're getting off a diuretic, storing water weight in a panic setting that you can't turn off. And because I'm weaning off so slowly (after this week, I'm done), this weight issue has just been a pain in the ass.

It's easy for me to say, "Well, I'm gaining weight, BeCaUsE oF tHe WaTeR pIlLs," but who knows. It's a vicious cycle when you're eating well for a few weeks, largely avoiding sweets, working out daily for 45 minutes of lifting and an hour of cardio, and your weight continues to climb... so you then start eating poorly to make yourself feel better. Today, I got on the scale, and I am 10 pounds heavier than I was at the start of February when the gym started. No pun intended, but that was a tough pill to swallow. I know it'll get better because it has to; just for now, it's a bit demoralizing.

My arms look good, though.

(Author's update as this is published: 16 pounds gained. Sadness ensues.)

A good chunk of my time, as I said, has been spent working in the bathroom downstairs. I'd love to go into detail on that, but we've still got a month before I drop the blogs about everything I've done in the house over the last year. Suffice it to say, there have been some tears shed in this bathroom, and not even while taking a shower. This picture was either before or after said tears... I can't remember... as I leveled the floor with shims. 

Bathroom work

You'll have to tune in on March 27th for more house information. More surprises also await that day, so you'll want to hang out when the time comes.

For now, I'll sign off. I came down with the flu or Covid or a miserable cold from hell, but I think it's the flu. So in addition to being the size of a whale, with an eye issue that I'm now on antibiotics for in lieu of a potential surgery, I'm sick as fuck. Really just... winning at 2024.

So, what else happened in February? I winged it on a new queso recipe that I made from scratch, and it tasted like shit. Went to a Superbowl party, started a new venture in a legal sense (exciiiiiiting stuff!), and discovered I can make Corbonnara from scratch really well. I finalized my bathroom design, got a Costco membership, and refrained from chopping my hair off. Struggled to function with some work stuff but persevered, struggled to get up at 4:30am M-F but managed, and struggled to breathe deeply and calm myself down a few times but got through it. And in the end, we're all just trying to get through it.

Ciao for now (c:

the january update: fourth edition

Ya think December is busy and then WaTcH oUt, here comes January. Tits dancin', arms and legs akimbo, flailing and wailing as it so UNmiraculously marches its dreary ass through. 

I don't like the month. 

Do you? 

It's a bleak month where the holidays are over, the skies are cloudy, the days are short, and depending on where you live, it's cold. 10 days in, and we got our first significant snowstorm of the year (re: season). From that point, I decided the month's motto was gonna be "roll with it." Remember that.

My fancy Trixie Mattel hat I got for Christmas

I started January still getting over Covid, which wasn't super cool, but it was what it was. And with that came, y'know... the new resolution of trying to enjoy my life more. It is hard when you feel crummy, but again... it is what it is. There were other resolutions to start enacting as well, ones I don't necessarily write about every year (who cares if you want to lose weight? That's just life, not a special thing you should do because it's a new year). 

That being said, I wanted to lose weight.

Something I'm pretty proud of myself for was starting intermittent fasting, where I drank a gallon of water every day, stopped eating at 7pm, and didn't eat again until 9am. This didn't last long, but lemme explain why.

I'm an early riser; I'm typically up by 6am and working at my desk. Some days I'm up earlier than that; others, I might stay in bed an hour later. But I start the day with some coffee and I need either Oat milk or creamer in it, which is a no-no for the fasting. Part of me feels like it's for the placebo effect of just having a warm cup of something to drink in my hands, and less because of the caffeine, but it did get to a point where I was falling asleep at my desk at 8am because I just couldn't keep my eyes open. So I adjusted, the gallon of water continued, the "no eating" after 7pm continued, but I shifted the morning stuff. 

I think intermittent fasting can work great for some people; I'm just not one of them. But now I know at least! So that's worth, y'know... a stick of gum in the pocket or whatever you might say. It's also not a bad thing to stop eating at 7pm, which I've been strict about (apart from the occasional dinner with friends that runs later or something), and it keeps me from wanting to snack later.

The bulk of the month was pretty quiet in general, I took a lot of it to just sorta chill and enjoy my last couple weeks of living alone. I had a work trip to Arizona that I'd be leaving for on January 18th, and I didn't want to start any crazy house projects before that. So I was just vibin', fastin', and planning out the year ahead and all of the exciting things on the way.

The trip to Arizona was a good one; it's always nice to meet and connect with the people I work with (many of whom I've known a large part of my life and, as such, consider them extended family anyway). After a few days of work-related stuff, though, I stayed with Katie and her family. This is never a bad time, if you ask me because there are few places where I feel as welcome and as comfortable just being myself as I do when I'm there. 

This was also gonna be the brief rest I got before flying onward to Maine for the big event. But FIRST, I had to get to Maine. 

And Delta was reallllly on the struggle bus regarding my travels. 

I won't get too into it because I don't want to sound like a whiny bitch (even though sometimes I really am), but suffice it to say, I won't ever schedule flights at the end of the day again if I can help it.

Thrilled in a hotel.

I landed in Detroit at about 6 or something, and my flight to Portland was supposed to take off at 9pm. Well, it got canceled, whoops, and because it was due to the weather, airlines do nothing for you. So Andrew was awesome and got me a hotel room, and after a $37 Uber ride to go 6 miles, I got like two hours of sleep before rising at 3:30am to make sure I was on the shuttle at 4:30am to get to the airport by 5am to take off by 7am. 

But not to Portland, no.

Flying to Portland meant flying to Atlanta first, then taking a 10pm flight that would've meant arriving near midnight, and I just wasn't going to do that. I flew to Boston instead. Once in Boston, I took a BUS to get to Portland.

And though it all sucked and was a big inconvenience, I was actually really grateful for the experience because, for starters, this had never happened to me before. Also, I had never taken a charter bus on my own. Know what? That was a delightful experience that I would be very willing to do again. Comfy seats, quiet, everyone slept (most passengers were people I was supposed to fly with the night before), and it was only a couple of hour's worth of driving.

Andrew picked me up at the bus depot, which I keep chuckling about because of just... privileged existence, I guess; I never thought I'd need to be picked up at a bus depot. 

Yay, experiences!

We had a great day in Portland, his final day living in Maine, going for lunch and getting some beers at a couple different spots. Eventually, it was time to just "not," and we went back to his apartment for the evening. It's funny, I'm usually the one asking people to help me move, so to be on the other end of it, it's such a weird, displaced feeling to be in a space that's all packed up. We connected my laptop to his TV and watched Aquaman 2 (barf, what a dumb movie), and then went to bed.

In the am, the adventure started right away. Andrew's rental truck was not at the nearby Home Depot as he had thought, but it was an hour away. So we started driving through the sleet that was coming down, and by the time we got to the Home Depot where the truck was, it was full-on snowing. Then I drove his car back to Portland, and he drove the truck, and I tried not to crash in what wound up being just shy of two inches of snow. 

Fun start!

The dreaded 3rd Floor Walk-up

Once safely back in Portland, it was an hour of hiking up and down the narrowest stairwell ever to get the apartment emptied. To Andrew's credit, he was VERY ready for the movie; everything was tidy and packed, and he knew exactly how he wanted to load the (small) moving truck. 

But there was no escaping those stairs.

We hit the road around 11:30, not far beyond the planned time, and the snow had stopped by then. It was still misty and kind of raining, though, so the drive just wasn't "fun." And to be fair, neither of us was expecting a barrel of laughs because it's still a drive across the country in the ugliest month of the year (sorry, January fans (but also, who are you if that's true?)). Once we left Maine... then New Hampshire... then Massachusetts... we were into New York. And I've gotta say, even in a dead month where there's no snow around, and it's all brown, New York is a really pretty state.

Frozen streams

I took many pictures on the drive and looking back at them, they just look like blurry pictures from a car, but that's ok. It's not the point. I can look back at probably two hundred pictures in my phone taken from trips over the years that are totally crap and would never be worth posting or printing. 

But they take you back, right? That's what matters. 

Anyway, the shitty picture above was a common sight, and it was from the melt and freeze of streams coming off these cliffs; it was really cool to see. Just that pure white punctuating the rocks, talk about nifty.

We drove for what seemed like forever, mostly through fog and mist, on our way to Hamburg, New York, which is just south of Buffalo. I think we made it there by, like... 9:45, maybe? We got checked into the hotel and got to bed an hour or so later, but we didn't actually fall asleep until after 1am. Back up and at it at 3:30am, on the road by 4am. 

Drove through a brief stretch of Pennsylvania, then the purely riveting world of Ohio (luckily it was so early that we didn't have to deal with ANY traffic or many vehicles for hours). Then, it was on to the illustrious land of Indiana.

The weirdly nice Indiana rest stops.

The day seemed shorter than it was, mainly because the first five hours were dark, and then there was more fog, mist, and clouds. Andrew and I chatted on the phone a lot, I think the entire way through Chicago until 3 hours later when we got home because delirium was setting in, and we were beyond exhausted. We got back around 3pm that afternoon, went and had a lackluster dinner at Olive Garden (but it hit the spot), and then it was home.

It's weird to live together again, I won't lie, but not in any sort of bad way. It'll be an adjustment, but I think it would be an adjustment for me to live with anyone again. You get so used to doing things on your own all the time, and how you want things and when you want to do things and WHY you want to do things, that anything throwing that into question just gives you pause. And again... not in a bad way. Just a way to adjust to, and, uh, what was the month's motto? Oh yeah. 

Roll with it.

So what else happened in January? Work continued, as ever, on the house. I played all the way through all three Spider-Man games on the PS5 ::tips hat:: and cried harder at each game. Discovered I love sumo citrus, Cosmic Apples are the tits, and that I still know how to babysit on the fly. Started wearing my hair occasionally in a bun, decided my beard makes me look older (thanks a lot, white hair), and continued building those ever-elusive plans for the big March reveal. Surprise!

Ciao for now (c: