Pit of Despair #2

Remember how our living room used to have a door that led to a giant hole in the ground? Well, here we go again -- this time in the kitchen:

The floor has been ripped out to reveal, as suspected, that the foundation stops in the middle of the room. That row of stones along the left is the original foundation (circa 1900). Everything to the left of those stones (a good 6+ feet of house) is sitting precariously on crumbly dirt. At one point many decades ago, someone decided to enclose what used to be the front porch without making sure the porch was built on a solid foundation.

I am reminded of that Sunday School song, "The foolish man built his house upon the sand..."

What does this mean? Well, we (meaning S's dad and co.) have to dig out and pour a new section of foundation under the area that doesn't have one. Then we'll bring in a whole bunch of rocks to fill in this black hole, then pour more concrete to tie everything together into a firm, stable base. Meanwhile, we're busy trying to design the layout of the kitchen, because all the plumbing has to be run before the concrete is finished. (!!!!!)

Why does everything have to be such an emergency around here? I feel like every project comes with the same warning: "Hurry up and make a decision or the house will fall down." Literally.


  1. Pit of Despairadox: That sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that comes with an unfortunate discovery that in turn gives way to joy derived from the resulting immediate and forced serendipitous change.

  2. Is that you, mom?

    How about the Pit of Despairanormal: That eerie feeling in the pit of your stomach that comes when, amid the haze of century-old dust, you peel back layers of paint and layers of time to unearth the skeleton keys and rusty tins of long-dead former inhabitants.


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