We worked out a deal with Walter’s parents to buy the house after his mother retires. I’m having some second thoughts. Can we really make this work? Is it worth it? God I hate this neighborhood, there’s no charm, no quaintness. The thing is, Walter and I can’t afford things like quaint and charm, we have to make it ourselves.

I made my peace with Phil and we agreed on no exorcisms as long as he behaves and he gets some input on how we design the house.

Getting my mother-in-law to agree to a total overhaul of the kitchen and downstairs bathroom before she moves, will be a much more difficult process.

We decide to work on our upstairs living area first:

• Gut reno of the bathroom, new walls, floor, shower tile, vanity, toilet…the works.
• Install laminate flooring on top of ugly linoleum floors.
• Patch walls in both bedrooms paint and get new furniture.

First of all, I want to say I was adamant about NEVER buying my in-laws house for a good 8 and a half years. It had everything I hated in a home and nothing that was on my dream list. Not only did it have an oppressive and malevolent demonic presence (whom I have named Greg), the house hadn’t seen any major updates in half a century! I have often stated that I would rather live in a cardboard box than ever move back into that house, even if it was temporary. My husband took this with a casual smugness as if he’d always known I’d cave.

To my husband this home is his legacy. His grandfather freshly home from WWII came out to the boonies of Ronkonkoma (which was then the last stop on the LIRR and LIE) to build a house and start a family. For my husband it had always been a multi-generational family home living with great-uncles and grandparents most of his life. When we first stayed here from 2007-2010 his maternal grandmother Nanny lived with us. A nice, yet salty old woman whom our Shiba Inu, Roxy, loved dearly. She passed shortly after we moved back in to start our house hunt in 2014.

I NEVER liked this house. Though I was grateful when we moved out of the dark, dank basement and into the two bedroom upstairs in the Summer of 2008, the dark blue linoleum floors and tiny pastel bathroom left much for me to want in an apartment. We fashioned a make shift kitchenette and living room and a modest bedroom. Not bad for two kids in college trying to make it work.

Still it was far from my dream home.

When we returned back to save up money to buy a house, Walter and I did our best to make the space more “us”, but I still felt as if I was living out of suitcases (Greg did everything he could to make me feel unwelcome. We ended up painting the walls red so he’d stop making them bleed every other night.)  This wasn’t MY dream home. MY dream home is an old Victorian or a farmhouse with history and possibly haunted by friendly and playful ghosts not grouchy, territorial demons.

We tried house hunting for a whole year and found two homes that were seemingly perfect, but those fell through. The whole process of searching for a house, finding one you are in love with and being told you can’t have it, is grating.

During a stint in the hospital for Lupus related kidney issues, I was stuck watching hours of HGTV house flipping shows. It was then that I saw the potential that Walter’s family’s house had. His parents are planning to move to Florida in about two years. We will buy the house for a very reasonable price and then use the equity to do a few major renovations.

So here I am, where I swore I’d never be at this house in Ronkonkoma, living  with my in laws (temporarily), my husband and a dark, demonic presence named Greg. Will I be able to turn this heap into the house of my dreams?