Un-level, defying three principles of physics? Check. Chickens in the backyard … and sometimes inside? Check. Old broken appliances displayed on shelves like art? Check Rocking chairs on front porch, possibly with old man or critter sleeping in them? Check. Wood floors that have surface termite damage forming a silhouette of Elvis, possibly Abe Lincoln? Check Wood floors that appear to be leaching dirt? Check Uh-huh. Uh-huh! I’ve finally figured it out. I finally have a label for my old, wobbly house: country chic. Or, at least that’s what I’m going to start calling it. If your house is like mine — old, rustic, a lot of personality, warm, loaded with opportunities for transmitting tetanus — then you’ve always had to apologize for it. People love the place when they walk in. Remark about this or that or how quaint it is to step straight through a broken floorboard. In these new houses, you just can’t step straight through a broken floorboard! Not like the olden days. Oh, it’s grand. Inevitably I say, “Sorry, it’s an old house, you know. Mind signing this insurance waiver?” But they find it quaint — like it’s part of the experience. “Oh, it’s charming,” they say. “Just lovely and wonderful, these old places. Now, did you know there’s a squirrel living in your cupboard?” And I apologize for that, too. It takes a certain person to live in an old house. Usually deranged, and who likes to spend gobs of money and lots of … Continue reading No more apologizing: It’s a ‘country chic’ house