Different Demons

 Back in May, our across the street neighbor sold his house for an insane amount of money and moved to Idaho (no comment). The gentleman who bought the house was reportedly overjoyed because he had been looking in this neighborhood for quite some time for a house.....for his daughter.  M'kay, that's nice. I live in my parent's first home. Two of my neighbors to the right of us are also the grown children of their parents who first owned the homes they live in, and the same with another neighbor across the street.  But I digress.  The purchaser told the realtor (who is also a neighbor) that he was looking for a "Leave it to Beaver" type neighborhood where his daughter and her husband could raise their children and get that old "Mayberry RFD" feel.  M'kay, I guess my parents kind of thought of this neighborhood that way 48 years ago. So, great!  We're getting new neighbors!  I thought.  That was 6 months ago.  There are still no new neighbors. The house remains empty.  

We have now taken to calling this house "The Winchester Mystery House".  If you know, you know.  If you don't, read up.  This house has been worked on DAILY for six months, non-stop.  Now, let me just say that our former neighbor, the previous owner of the house left that house in turn-key condition.  I actually LOVED the house and everything he and his wife did to it.  It had beautiful wood flooring, gorgeous kitchen, big, open living room - dining room floor plan. HUGE backyard.  He even built the kitchen AROUND his grandmother's vintage O'Keefe & Merritt gas stove, which was something of great pride to him. So it really did make us wonder WTF was going on over there.  Why so much construction? Why the daily crews of workers for a turn-key home supposedly purchased for a young family? When was this new family moving in? As the months dragged on, and no one moved in, we began to think that maybe this guy was just a flipper.  I mean WHY would you want to demolish this?...

Last Friday, I walked down the hall to my office as usual (that commute is brutal), opened the window shade and surveyed yet ANOTHER work crew, sat down at my desk and started another typical work day.  I heard a familiar voice at the front door calling; "Helloooo...anybody home?" I went to the door to find my former neighbor.  He was visiting a friend down the road and dropped by to see how the new residents were settling in to their new home.  I laughed as I regaled him with all the happenings and informed him that there is STILL no one living there.  However, we do see the man who bought the house quite often as he's here daily checking on the work. I made him laugh in return when I told him that we were now calling his former home the "Winchester Mystery House" (heretofore to be referred to as WMH) and since he knew exactly what I was talking about, and he's quite the gun enthusiast and hunter, he said "Well, I thought I took all those 'demons' with me when I left." He then told me that the neighbor directly across the street from that house (kitty-corner from us) sold their house for another INSANE amount of cash, and that the guy that bought the WMH also made an offer on that house when it came up for sale.  He said; "They kinda told him to stuff it."  So then I told him that just made me think that we might not be so far off the mark in thinking this guy was just a flipper.

Then my former neighbor said something that I'm not sure is intriguing or creepy. "You know, this guy is major rich." He then pointed off into the distance at a building in the commercial area near our neighborhood. "You see that building? He owns it. He also owns the entire top floor. And he told me when he was looking at our house that he could see this neighborhood, more specifically YOUR house, because of the Italian cypress trees lining your backyard wall."  

This is the view of what he's talking about from my front porch...

And this is a close-up...

Ummm...ok.  So he sits up in his ivory tower and wants to rule over all he surveys?  WTAF!  We continue our conversation and I tell my former neighbor that I have actually been quite sad that no one has moved in, that they have gutted that beautiful house, and that I wished I had the money to do just a FRACTION of what this guy has done AND pay people to do it for me. So basically, I admit to him, I'm super jealous. He just lamented that he didn't take his grandmother's vintage stove with him. "The intact milk glass salt and pepper shakers alone were worth a lot of money."  I suddenly put a little bit into perspective, quelled my jealousy talk, and felt bad for him...for a minute. Dude made bank on that house and built a new house in Idaho (no comment). So sympathy waned quickly.  I'm going to hell.

I asked him about his new life in his new state and if he was happy with his decision.  Of course, he was.  I asked him about his wife, his dogs, his dad (who lived in the house before him...it's a thing in this neighborhood).  All was well in Boise.  He left his greetings for Charlie, I asked him to deliver our regards to his wife and his dad, and we said our goodbyes and good lucks.

You'd think the story would be over, wouldn't you?  But no.  This week, painters arrived. So Charlie and I figured this was the last of it. After this house is painted, that means the new folks will be enjoying Thanksgiving in their new house, right?  Well, they did indeed paint the house (white on white), AND THEN, they painted the roof!  You heard me. They literally got up on the roof and painted it BLACK. They painted the shingled roof of a Southern California house BLACK!  I wasn't sure of what I was seeing, so I got out my camera and took a picture. Then I got on the phone and texted my sister Loke, because my brother-in-law Phil is in Roofing.  "Is this a thing?" I asked her. "Is painting your roof a thing?"  She said it was becoming a thing...but it's a stupid thing. They are asking to bake themselves in the heat of summer. Their AC, if they have one, is going to work extra hard because their attic and roof space is going to be an oven, and they are shortening the life of their shingles. 

Who does this?

Now it's done.  Right?  New owners are moving in, probably this weekend. Right?  But wait! There's more!  This morning, large equipment started showing up and going into the back yard.  Mini-cats, water trucks, large dump truck. OMG, the beeping. THE BEEPING! I stepped out onto the porch to check things out, and it appears that they are now landscaping the backyard. The neighbor behind them, with whom they share a back wall, stepped out of the house in her jammies to see what all the noise was.  I could tell she was annoyed and I felt bad for her. For a minute. She was the realtor who sold the house to this guy. Sympathy waned. I'm going to hell.

To sum it up, the story isn't over. Much like the demons that haunted Sarah Winchester, this effing house is haunting me every damn day as I sit at my desk and observe. Also, even though I've seen this supposed "daughter" who is the recipient of Daddy Gotbucks gift only once, I won't be hurrying over to bring a welcome to the neighborhood housewarming gift. I guess I hoped that they would just move in right after the house was bought and like other folks start fixing it up, little by little, the way they wanted to, over time. You know, like everyone else in the neighborhood.  Work for it. Sweat equity. Not have it handed to them on the proverbial silver platter. Isn't that the "Leave it to Beaver/Mayberry RFD" way?  Doesn't matter. I'm not June Cleaver and I'm not Aunt Bea. No homemade jam or cookies will be crossing this street.  I'm definitely going to hell.