I believe I need to keep up with at least some of my promises, so I shall endeavor to tell you about the visit to the farm. Of course, it is getting very late on a work night, so it may not be too long.
So on Saturday morning, I arose at the crack of 7:45 a.m. wondering why my father had already been by to wake me at 7:30. Much to my surprise, I discovered that my father had actually overslept. This put our departure time a little bit later than anticipated, but we were safely on the road by 9 a.m.
For the most part, the ride was uneventful. Our plan was simple - a quick stop at the bakery for treats to bring home, out to the farm and then back to town to spend a little time with Grandpa. What do they say about the best laid plans? Oh yes, they do not apply when dealing with the Mayor of Northfork.
I have to admit, the first mistake was made solely by Yours Truly. About 15 minutes from our destination, I had the brilliant idea to call my grandfather and let him know that my dad and I were on our way into town. It was not until AFTER I had him on the phone that I realized that I am not a good liar. I should have told him that we were just leaving home. Instead I revealed our actual location.
When he asked where we were going, I should have made up a good story. Instead, I told him that we were going out to the farm. Now, my grandfather is already quite paranoid about our visits to the farm ever since he discovered that we had gutted the entire farmhouse bathroom.
To be fair, this is a bathroom that has not been functional for years if not decades. There has not been water to the house for a few years, and the bathroom has been in a terrible state of disrepair. In fact, the toilet had actually started to sink through the floor. Nice, right? Sadly, this horror-movie worthy room was once a lovely bathroom that was used by my grandfather and his family. So he has a little more emotional attachment to it.
Anyway, while he is working through his emotional upheaval over the bathroom, he has become paranoid that the kitchen will be next in our path of destruction. In this case, his instincts are dead-on. However, in consideration of his feelings, the kitchen demolition has been momentarily stayed.
The actual point of the journey to the farm this weekend was for my dad and our contractor friend to search the condemned barn for salvageable barn planks for cabinets, furniture and other odds and ends. Unfortunately, due to the fact that my grandfather took even worse care of his barn than he did his bathroom, this was a fruitless task. On the plus side, the granary apparently has some interesting treasures, but don't tell my grandfather that quite yet.
After my father and I arrived at the farm to meet the contractor, we spent some time in the barn. Once I started to feel unsafe and frozen, I went to the house. While I was searching through some old newspapers, lo and behold, my grandfather showed up at the house. Was I happy to see him? Yes and no. Yes because I did indeed wish to visit with him. No because he obviously drove through some pretty bad road conditions to get there. Needless to say, I was the one to drive him back to town.
Now that I'm getting really tired, I will have to summarize. What did I learn from this experience? Let me start a list: 1) My grandfather believes that my father is frail and should not be undertaking a renovation project. 2) Someone in my family is overly fond of chairs. Seriously, there are probably at least 20 different kinds of chairs (mostly broken) in that house. 3) Raccoons can climb into ceiling rafters.
There are probably more things, but if I remember them later I will mention them again. For now, this is all I have to say on the subject of farmhouses.