Feb 4, 2016 3 min read

It was after another long day of scraping and painting that the farmer sat in his chair, unlaced his work boots and nailed what we’ve both been thinking.

“I feel like I’m eating an airplane,” he said.

The airplane is this house of ours, a 120-year-old Victorian with a huge lot, a large front porch, five bedrooms and the audacity to show her age.

Anyone who’s ever owned a grand, old house knows these houses can be a grand, old pain in the neck. Yes, they are worth the work and expense: you don’t find this kind of charm – or ceiling height – in newer construction.

We love this house. If we were going to stay here forever, I wouldn’t change much more than the exterior paint. But it’s too big for us, and in order to get the best price, some major sprucing is in order.

The farmer is on Month 10 of the work. It started last spring when, deciding he couldn’t safely paint the house with the electrical wires hanging all over, he dug a trench and buried the lines. Then, the painting could start.

The house was caged in scaffolding for much of the summer and fall. When the weather turned cold, he bought himself more painting time by hanging plastic over the front porch to keep it warm. Our house looks shrink-wrapped these days. Simultaneously, we’re working inside. Plaster repair, wood floor refinishing, new carpet, new bathroom fixtures, new lighting. Except for a bit of welding, the farmer is doing it all by himself. They don’t show you this hard work on all those cute TV shows about renovation. Peel back the layers of cute, and you see the backbreaking part.

If it actually were an airplane we were eating, we wouldn’t be the first. A man in France became famous for eating nine tons of metal during a 30-year span. Among his crunchy snacks was a Cesna 150 plane. He also ate bicycles – spokes and tires included. He said he followed the plane parts with mineral oil and a lot of water. Still, that his death at age 57 was attributed to “natural causes” seems a little delusional, don’t you think?

I’m guessing his secret was tiny, little bites. That’s how we’re approaching the house restoration, in pieces.

To save money, the farmer decided to install some bedroom carpeting himself.

“I’ve watched the pros do it, and it’s noisy and vigorous,” I warned. I was picturing workers on all fours, banging a long metal bar with their knees to stretch the carpet into place.

“I can do this,” he said. And he did, saving us a thousand dollars, although I’m not sure his right knee would say it was worth it.

We plan to sell the house next fall, and so far we’re on track. If this were an airplane, we’d have already eaten the wings and half of the fuselage. There’s still a long way to go: seats and the instrument panel and wires and landing gear.

More literally, floors, roofing and new windows. And half the outside still needs painting. Onward we go, one bite at a time.

Beth Dolinar can be reached at cootiej@aol.com.