Even in these trying times, I try to stay positive and wake each morning and acknowledge the things in life I'm thankful for.
And yesterday morning I was thankful for vinyl wallpaper.
Our new house is in remarkably good shape for a foreclosure. With a good scrubbing it would be move-in ready.
Except for the wallpaper.
Every flat surface in all 10 rooms is papered in 70's era floral wallpaper. Even some of the ceilings. Living with it isn't really an option. It's overwhelming. And if you stare at it long enough you'll get a migraine. Painting over it isn't an option, not just because it's such a lazy, white trash thing to do, but because in most places it's already frayed and peeling. No, it was going to have to come off. And with the boyfriend's long hours and my current employment status, there never was really any question who was going to do it.
As escrow stretched longer and our window for remodeling shrank, I'd have nightmares at the thought of having to steam it all off in under a week. I met the boyfriend at the house around noon on Wednesday when he received the keys and after a brief celebratory hug and a kiss it was time to get to work. I decided to start in the master bedroom because I noticed a corner on one wall was already drooping down about 6 inches. With a mixture of dread and hope, I gave it a tug and...
Vinyl wallpaper! It doesn't tear! The entire sheet peeled off like string cheese! Hallelujah!
This was going to be a piece of cake. Within a couple of hours I'd finished the master, the dining and living rooms. The boyfriend left work early and joined me. We cracked a bottle of champagne and ordered a pizza and by the time we left around 9 the house was wallpaper free.
Except for one room.
The front bedroom had inexplicably been papered Old Skool style. It was going to require a steamer. No biggie. It was one of the smaller rooms in the house and I figured I could knock it out in a day. Yesterday morning I rented a steamer and got to work with the arduous task of removing the lovely mauve floral print.
And it was then that I discovered one small issue with the house.
A flaw, you might say.
A problem.
The house is haunted.
We had tried to find out the history of the house. It was obvious from the wallpaper that old people lived there. Or the blind. We had deduced from a couple of clues that it might be an elderly couple. A magnet tucked under the stove vent said it was "Nana's Kitchen". A faded paper banner hung up in the garage rafters proclaimed "Happy 50th Anniversary Josephine and Jim". We asked our charming but vapid realtor, Stephanie, if she had any info. She was clueless. About that, and so much more we soon discovered.
And then a couple of weeks ago I was standing in front of the house with the dogs and suddenly a voice behind me asked "So you gonna buy it?" I turned around and found Jim, the Exterior Decorator, our new neighbor and my potential new BFF.
"No", I said, "but a 'buddy' of mine is".
No need to spring the "gay" thing on anyone yet. In LA, when people find out the gays are moving in next door, they're usually happy because it means their property values will go up. I'm pretty sure they view things a little differently here. They'll figure it out soon enough.
I asked him if he knew anything about the house. He said an elderly woman lived there with her son. Josephine, I imagine. He said she passed away about a year ago, and then several months later the son died too. Why the house had fallen into foreclosure, he didn't know. Perhaps the heirs didn't want to be bothered, or perhaps there were no heirs. Whatever the reason, it fell back to the bank, and now to us. Beyond that, Jim was a little hazy on the details. That's to be expected when you start drinking at 8am.
I reported what I had discovered to the boyfriend, and he asked the question I hadn't thought to ask... did they die in the house?
In California, any death in a property has to be disclosed to potential buyers. Or so I thought. The lovely, but dim, Stephanie told us that isn't the case with a foreclosure. I think she was lying. But, truth be told, we had other things to worry about and forgot about it.
Until yesterday.
I was in the front bedroom, steaming away, peeling the wallpaper inch by painful inch. I'd brought a boombox with me and had it tuned to NPR, or as I like to call it "Radio Free Bako". When gradually the radio dissolved into static. And just then...
The front door slammed shut with a thud that shook the house.
I assumed it was the boyfriend but when I went out to the foyer there was nobody there.
I hadn't left the front door open, had I? I was pretty sure I didn't.
Oh well, maybe I had and the wind blew it shut.
But then I looked out the window and saw the air was dead still.
And then I noticed the front door was deadbolted.
There was no way I imagined it, the whole house shook when it happened. It was then that the house seemed to get really, really cold.
Just then my cellphone rang. It was the boyfriend, checking in.
"Oh hi honey, everything is fine, and by the way, the house is haunted."
I told him what had just happened and he was a little freaked. He began to tell me what he thought I should do, but the phone went dead. The call dropped out even though I had full signal strength.
I decided it was time to take a break, and left.
Fast.
I'm no Sylvia Brown, but I think it's pretty obvious what's going on.
Josephine really, really loved her wallpaper. And she isn't happy.
And she's still there.
