Sippican Cottage

Search
Close this search box.
yikes
Picture of sippicancottage

sippicancottage

A Man Who Has Nothing In Particular To Recommend Him Discusses All Sorts of Subjects at Random as Though He Knew Everything

Kinda Fussy

Well, there’s nothing left but the crying, as my old man used to say at the end of every Red Sox game. I’ve disgorged tons of my ill-considered opinions about home improvement along with a couple of couplets about spackle or something. There’s nothing left to do but work in the room, because all the work is done.

It’s not a bad place to moil, truth be told, but it requires some fortitude from the occupant from about Christmas to Easter. The central heating doesn’t go there. We made some back-of-the-envelope BTU calculations and rule-of-thumb CFM guesses and performed some kilowatt-hour head-scratching arithmetic, and decided the office was a bridge too far for the regular ducts to run. So we put in a little baseboard electric radiator to take the chill off. If I get cold in there in the winter, I can always go outside and warm my hands over the electric meter when it’s on.

So here’s where I’m typing this:

I don’t know what you were expecting, but I expect it wasn’t that. Spartan. We got two cheap marpets (carpets from Marden’s), made a table from some leftover legs and a tabletop I’ve had in my way for a decade, plunked the old Dell dustcatcher on top of it, dragged in a dining room chair, and got back to work. Don’t laugh, I’m running an empire or two from there. It’s an Irish sort of empire, it’s true. If you’re unfamiliar with Irish empires, you must be unaware that all Irishmen believe they are the descendants of kings. Of course they were only the king of the mud from under their feet to that rock over there, until someone took it away from them with a pointed stick and some harsh language, but royalty is royalty.

 

We have a couch for the cat to sit on. It’s completely different from the other couch for the cat to sit on. There’s also an ottoman for the cat to sit on.

The chair and the typewriter are flea market finds. The chair is an awesome oak rocker with leather upholstery and nifty brass tacks all around. Very Arts and Crafts, or Mission Style. Take your pick. No one knows the difference anymore. You can sit in that rocker and think great thoughts. No one does, but you could.

Readers with a keen eye will notice the wandering glass door. We grain painted it a few weeks ago, remember? Well, we blew out the wall it was in a while back, and it was hanging around without a home. My wife, who doesn’t say much, mentioned twice or fourteen times that it would look good in the office, instead of sideways, leaning against some plywood, in the basement. I occasionally listen to her, and it always turns out well.

Now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. Nothing up my sleeve, and presto! Before and after!

 

 

 

 

Well, I’ll have to scout around the house for something else to show you. We have this bathroom, for instance.

I think it needs attention, but then again, I’m kinda fussy.

[Thanks for reading and commenting and buying my book and hitting my tip jar. It’s much appreciated. Please tell an intertunnel friend about Sippican Cottage]

5 Responses

  1. Tell your wife from this wife–a husband that can do that kind of work and WILL do it every day is worth about $175k/year!

    Thank you again,

  2. “I’d tell my wife that, but she’s currently operating a frying pan in the kitchen, and I don’t want her to get any ideas.”

    That’s why I do most of the cooking, so my wife doesn’t get any of those “look what I’m holding, that would make such a great murder weapon” ideas. I’ve been making lots of pastries lately, to keep her sweet.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Thanks for commenting! Everyone's first comment is held for moderation.