On Not Buying The Farm, and Being Tagged

DH and I did not buy the farm over the weekend.

I suppose, in retrospect, that this is a good thing.  The farm would have been a lot of work (DH disagrees- he thinks it would just have involved a tad more mowing.  I think he’s from another planet.)  The farm house itself was built circa 1850 and, while it has been well maintained, there are still a lot of maintenance issues.  The slate roof, for example, needs replaced.  That is a terrific job in and of itself.  Then there are things like the cracked ceilings, bowing walls, wet stone in the basement, bats – hordes of them – in the attic, ants eating some of the interior wood,  a plumbing job that is mandated by the health department…. and then top all that off with the enormous job of moving our household into the new place and selling our old home.  Lots to take on.  It would have been worth it, for the right price.  The price, unfortunately, was not even close to right.  The final bid was almost three times more than we were willing to pay.  We once again didn’t even raise our bid card.  Since the kids were getting antsy and hungry, and since the main event was all said and done, I decided to leave right after the real estate portion of the auction.  DH stayed behind with his dad for a bit so they could check out some of the farm equipment.

I didn’t feel too bad about things when I pulled out of the bumpy front meadow that was used as a makeshift parking lot.  There were no tears, not even a lump in my throat, as I headed down the 500′ driveway.   I actually had a renewed zeal for our current home, and really wanted to get back here and get on some projects that had been pushed aside while we were caught up in Auction Fever.  I drove home smiling, feeling pretty good, actually.  I’m happy for the new owner, I thought.  I hope he and his family really enjoy the property and get some use out of it.

On the way home, my bubble was burst.  DH called to say he had overheard some people talking.  Turns out that the mining company who owns property adjoining the farm was the buyer.  We had considered this possibility.  In my naivete’, though, I had assumed that the man bidding on auction day was a yuppie about to retire to a hobby farm.  He wore a denim shirt, expensive blue jeans, and a cap that proclaimed he was an amateur pilot.  His casual shoes were dirty from walking through dusty antique shops, not coal and limestone mines.   He didn’t look like a greedy, greasy corporate raider.  I felt betrayed, almost violated.  The nerve!

Oh, well.  I suppose a miner is better than a developer.  At least it will stay uninhabited, and perhaps the fish and wildlife will have a couple more decades to enjoy the property.  Even if it is without us.

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As for being tagged: my marvelous friend has decided to include me in a game of Internet Follow The Leader.  However, I’m afraid the chain is going to be broken with this blog.  I have already gone through a “list useless facts about yourself” exercise.  Plus, I don’t know eight other bloggers to tag.   Alas.   Guess I’m still It.


3 thoughts on “On Not Buying The Farm, and Being Tagged

  1. 1. All boys are from planet Garcon or some thing like that, didn’t you know that?
    2. Eight was hard enough, I dunno if I could get to 100….
    3. No, I have NOTHING better to do, I’m unemployed!

    (Look out inter-web, it is open season on memes!)


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