The Project || 18+ [ON HOLD]

4.

Back at the farmhouse, I dive into the most urgent renovations — those that will set the stage for all the changes to come.

Tearing off the wallpaper feels almost therapeutic. Each strip comes away with a satisfying sound, like I'm peeling back layers of time. The old, faded floral patterns make me think about the stories these walls have seen. I can almost hear echoes of laughter and whispers of arguments from long ago. The room fills with the scent of old glue and plaster, tangible remnants of decades.

Next, I assess the plumbing, the house's veins and arteries that have long been neglected. I make notes of what needs fixing, replacing, or completely overhauling. The old pipes groan and protest as I test them, their creaks and leaks marking the spots that need the most attention. It's intricate, detailed work, but I'm in my element.

In the breaks between the hard work, I sketch out my design ideas. My pencil races over the graph paper as I picture each room transformed. I see beyond the decay and disrepair, imagining spaces filled with light, color, and life. I consider the lines of sight, the flow of movement, and how each choice will contribute to the house's overall feel. It's a dance between creativity and practicality, and I love every step.

As the afternoon wanes, a thought crosses my mind. There was a sign in town for "Green Thumbs Landscaping." The overgrown garden and wild lawn need professional hands, and it's one area I'm more than happy to delegate. I fish out my phone from the pocket of my dusty overalls and dial the number.

"Green Thumbs Landscaping, how can I help you?" a cheerful voice answers.

"Hi, I recently bought a property here in Willow Creek and I need some landscaping work done. I saw your sign in town," I explain.

"Of course! We can send some guys over in the morning to take a look and give you an estimate. What's the address?" the voice replies.

I give them the details, feeling a small thrill at the thought of another piece of the renovation puzzle falling into place. "See you tomorrow, then," I say, ending the call.

I look around, proud of today's work. Tools packed, I lock up and drive back to the motel. The short drive lets my mind wander from the physical labor to the creative vision I hold for the house.

Once in my room, I spread out my notes, sketches, and paint samples across the small table. I'm surrounded by swatches of color, scribbled measurements, and inspiration clippings from magazines. I open my laptop and start creating vision boards. Each click each decision, feels like a step closer to bringing the old farmhouse back to life.

I'm lost in the process, excitement bubbling within me. Each choice, from the hue of the living room walls to the pattern of the bathroom tiles, is a step toward transformation. I'm not just renovating a house; I'm creating a home, even if it's not for me. And in this quiet motel room, with my vision boards taking shape before me, I allow myself a moment to dream of what it will look like when it's all done — the satisfaction of seeing my plans made real, the joy of bringing new life to an old house.