Illicit

I am in love.  I have been for years.  And it's not with Alan, my husband (only well, yes, duh, I do love him, too).

It's with this amazingness.  This slice of awesomesauce, if you will:

I am, indeed, a smitten kitten with this old abandoned house on the huge corner lot in Clemmons.  I've driven past it for years, looked at it longingly, and kept on going. 

Looking through the broken bathroom window toward the front door

To my benefit, it's been for sale for as long as I can remember.  To my detriment, there ain't no way my pocketbook has the capacity to truly call it my own.  A girl can dream, though.

See, Officer?  The house invited me in!

And since my sister has TOTALLY BEEN CORRUPTING HER INNOCENT BABY SISTER, I decided to, you know, go over with my camera yesterday and take a little looksie around.  All in the name of Preserving History.

Wellhouse

After parking my car on a side street, I thought it might behoove me to take a little lay of the land, get the vibe of the place, ascertain if there was anyone there who was going to, a) jump out and rape and/or kill me, and b) arrest me.  [Sidenote: Do you get that I am FREAKED about arrest? Maybe more than the rape/kill part?  How whack is that?] 

Anywho, it was just a quiet, sunny day with cars zooming by and life carrying on.  And when I peaked into the well (complete with pulley and handle and rope), not one Boogeyman jumped out at me.

Mantel that asked politely to come home with me

Good heavenly days! The doors of the house were completely wide open and most of the windows had broken panes.  What's a girl to do but Break and Enter???  The house has been pretty stripped down, and there was really nothing to take (or destroy either, for that matter).  NOT THAT I WOULD HAVE TAKEN ANYTHING, OFFICER!  My favorite thing in the house was that incredible, old mantel that someone else had already removed from its fireplace. 

In doing a little internet research, I found out that the house was built in 1884. Almost 130 years ago, PEOPLE. Do you know how much that fact alone makes me swoon?  So, turns out the most recent kitchen in the home was a much later addition.  It had this 1950s wood paneling in it, and while I wouldn't mind that so much in a ranch house, it was a TOTAL TRAVESTY here.  The kitchen's redeeming quality was the fireplace that you see above. And interesting, isn't it, that out of the five fireplaces in the home, there were four period (re: gorgeous) mantels and this one with such a simple (re: boring) mantel.  FOR SHAME.

At this point, I was still moseying my way around the outside of the house and pretty much becoming completely oblivious to the local traffic.  So many amazing architectural details...the soft, crumbly bricks, the molding under the roof, the mile-high windows, the creeping ivy.  Awesomesauce, indeed.  While I have watched my design taste become more modern in flavor over the past few years, I can't help but be thrilled by the history of this house.

Doggone 8th commandment getting in my way

So, by this point, I had pretty much made my way all around the outside of the house, but now I was totally jonesing to go inside.  And you know, the doors were open.  And the mat did say "welcome."  So, cautiously (murderers and rapists and police, you know) I crept inside. Onto some exquisite, albeit needing refinishing, hardwood floors. Into rooms with 12 foot ceilings. And humongous windows.

Living room

It was a little disconcerting to be in this house by myself.  It was just silent in there except for the dim sound of cars driving by outside.  Just me and my camera.  It was also a little amazing to think that after literally years of driving by and coveting (doggone 10th commandment) this house, I was actually inside.  So, I guess there's a thank you nod to be awarded to my Sissy, too, for infecting me with the Abandoned Building Historic Preservation Flu.

I didn't really stay that much longer, since there wasn't that much more to see.  I was drinking in the small details like the light switches above juxtaposed with the extremely tacky 1980s ceiling fans. Wouldn't it have been fantastic to see this house (and the grounds, too) in its heyday?  Note to self: must research.

And speaking of research, I did text my sister-in-law, Shannon, while I was there.  She is my resident expert/contact for all things Clemmons since her family practically developed the town and appears to know everyone in it.  She texted back that this was the "McGee Homeplace" and that her parents go to church with the people who owned it (see?  told you).  AND, she mentioned a possibility of me getting to talk with them.  Awesomesauce!

I was thinking while I was providing the self-guided tour (ha!  get it?)  just how much our American homes have changed in the past 130 years.  One full bathroom in the house for the whole family (with one half bath obviously added much later).  No closets in the bedrooms.  No central air available, and heating (other than fireplaces) was obviously added much later.  A maximum of three bedrooms in this huge (to me) home. 

And I would give just about anything to buy it and renovate it. Donations are currently being accepted. FYI, the tax value on the land (2.41 acres) is $545,900.  And the tax value of the house, you ask?  Why that, my friends, is at the bargain holiday value of $583 (no zeros on the end) for 2500 square feet of deliciousness. 

I am expecting one of y'all to make sure it gets tucked under my Christmas tree this year. Only fifteen days left before Chrismas to make it happen!  And please. Don't get arrested in your efforts to bring me my heart's desire.