I’ve found that it can be pretty cool living in someone else’s former home.
The house we’re in now is our first non-new home. The previous owners built it, raised their two kids and then retired to a smaller home somewhere near water I imagine. As the second or third owner of a home you inherit certain things from the ghosts of owners past.
Unlike our previous homes, our yard here is well established along with garden beds packed with perennials. Of course we also inherited a previously used dishwasher, furnace, carpet and roof. Light fixtures that were really cool when Reagan was President. I don’t think you can call it retro if it’s never been changed.
We also have what I’ve always wanted, a full finished basement. That’s where the kids spend most of their playtime and where my office is located. It’s partially carpeted and divided into rooms or sections. It has one of those drop-ceilings, suspended ceilings, that’s the name. White speckled on one side, fiberglass insulation on the other.
Tonight while re-installing blinds in the only small window in the basement, I had to push up on a section of the ceiling to push another section into its place.
I have no idea who it belonged to. Maybe a guest who hid the box while staying downstairs. Maybe Mr. Previous owner? But you might also assume it was jr. And I wonder if at some point he ever remembers that he stashed something back at mom and dad’s house and worry that mom or dad would stumble on it and start asking questions.
Wonder what else might be up there.