On New Year’s Day, the row of houses directly across the street from me suffered a terrible fire, leaving six homes unlivable. Thankfully, no one was injured (except one cute little kitty, but she’s all healed up now), but it took seven months before the families were able to move back into their homes.
My block is just getting back on its feet, each of the houses slowly filling up. It’s a scary thing to know how close to tragedy we all were, and how lucky I am that my address ends with an odd number.
Tonight, my newly-moved-back-in neighbor gave me and my husband a tour of her now renovated house. It had to be totally gutted, and she was given complete control over the new design. Her place is breathtakingly gorgeous. It’s still filled to the brim with boxes and unplaced furniture, but her ultimate vision shines through the moving mess. Her love of upcycling and repurposing has solidified my new found interest in the art form. I wish I had pictures to show, but her cream kitchen with a hint of lime green, her beautiful mid-century modern slat board coffee table and her indescribable white marble bathroom made her house by far the best designed house in which I’ve ever set foot.
Out of her move may come my first commissioned upcycling job. A dresser and desk rehabbed to shabby chic to match her “Hampton’s Suite” guest room. She of course has the ability to do the work herself, but can’t take on any more projects. I’ve only been venturing into this commercial endeavor for a week now, and it seems like my business is already growing in unexpected directions.
I finished a new piece tonight as well, a blue drop leaf table. I can hardly bring myself to sell it, I’m glad I don’t have enough room to hoard all this furniture.