o.0
That's big.
Well, out here on the Plains, it seems pretty small.
This is a very old house, and on its last legs. The owners are simply waiting around until an (R) is in the White House again, making it financially feasible to develop this property, and the house'll be torn down. It's no architectural or historical masterpiece.
All four rooms remaining in it (I requested that one part be torn down, and it was) were once two rooms--the dining room, the living room, the kitchen, the bedroom--excepting that for a long time, the current bedroom was some sort of dining room-sun room.
A woman who'd been born here in 1884, 1885, lived here all her life (excepting the last nine months), as she grew older and blinder and more crippled, had "adjustments" made in it so as to accommodate her fitness. She was for example totally blind the last twenty years of her life. The last place she wanted to go was to the nursing home in town. She ended up there in 1986, and died shortly thereafter, as she didn't like it.
Then it remained vacant until I moved in nineteen years later; of course it had to be "brought up to code," and it was. I like living here, but it might be uncomfortable for others, because it's drafty in winter and hot in summer, and there's not much here. The refrigerator's the biggest user of electricity. No television, no radio, no stereo, no microwave, no dishwasher, no washing machine, &c., &c., &c.
A primitive couldn't live here, but I'm eminently comfortable.