The house I live in would better be described as a winterized cottage. (WordPress doesn’t recognize ‘winterized’: it must be a Canadian thing) It was built over and around a trailer. Some of the older locals still call it “The Trailer” although it hasn’t been one for over 30 years.
There is no basement, its built on cement blocks, which is a blessing as my neighbours basement floods every spring. My neighbours aren’t beside me, they are in front of me, my driveway is a right-of-way through their driveway. With no dug foundation and not being on the road, my property taxes are very low.
Years ago I was staying at my sister’s on a visit and my niece’s boyfriend was living with them. At that time I was married and lived a couple of hours drive away so I would visit my sister and stay over every once in a while. That’s when I met J’s boyfriend: He was going to college and had just bought a piece of property with a trailer on it. He and his dad were stripping it down and building a house.
They broke up but got back together and moved into this house. One day I visited while he was starting the foundation for a shed. There was a poured cement foundation and he was building a short wall with granite stones. We smoked a joint and I admired his work. (I love cement)
I think about that almost every time I go into the shed or trim the weeds so the stones aren’t covered. Never in my wildest imagination did I think that this would one day be my shed; that this house would one day be my house.
They had lived here a long time, maybe 10 years or more when my marriage broke up. My niece was ready for a regular house in a town and not be so isolated; I was waiting for my settlement and thinking how perfect this isolated cottage would be for me. This area was much cheaper than where I was from and we had 2½ acres on a river so I was able to buy this place in full; no mortgage. (My ex re-mortgaged our home to buy me out; he still has a mortgage.)
There are so many things about this house that are so perfect for me it’s like it was build for me. I’ll stay here as long as I can look after it or have to give up driving…. whichever comes first. Then I will sell it as a cottage: it would be a great cottage!
Funny story: a year or so after I moved here I was at a neighbours party. Someone (who was quite drunk) asked me where I lived and I told them. He said, “No! Some old lady bought it off the little girl.”
“Yea, I’m the old lady and the little girl is my niece”
Isn’t life funny?