Below the Surface

Over the past couple of months I've been spending a lot of time on a feasibility study.  I'm assembling the costs associated with the complete renovation of the vacant farmhouse which belongs to my wife's family and analyzing those figures to see if we can actually afford to do it.  Despite its dilapidated appearance, the house is structurally very sound and ripe for restoration.  (I wrote more about the house here:  The Farm.)

The house was built circa 1926 and was last occupied in the 1980s.  After my in-laws moved from Texas to Connecticut in the late 1990s to take care of the family property much work was done on the house to prepare it for its eventual restoration.  The removal of copious amounts of asbestos in the cellar and a new roof were two expensive and necessary investments.  Additionally, much effort and time (and money) was spent gutting the house to its bare studs to prepare for eventual transformation.  And that is essentially the condition it's in today.

Our hope is that we can afford to renovate the house and transform it into a beautiful and hospitable bed & breakfast/inn.  In order to know if we can actually do that, we obviously need to know what it will cost.  So over the past month or so I've been working with a local and reputable contractor to begin the process of estimating the costs.  Every week it seems a new group of contractors comes by to survey the house and property.  We've met with builders, painters, electricians, masons, plumbers, HVAC people, and even a representative of the Connecticut Trust for Historic Preservation.

With each visitor comes a new line item in the budget.  But many of these professionals also have the irksome habit of raising issues which seem to precipitate other potential costs.  "What kind of septic system is here?" "What kind of water volume does the well generate?"  The answer is, "I don't know, but I bet it's going to cost us more money to find out."  There are costs we can estimate now, but several others are dependent on what we find underground.  Soil tests to determine leach and fill for the septic system await and with that information will come a new contractor estimate.  We might need an entirely new septic system and we might need new wells dug to generate enough water supply for the large house.   Like much in life, the important answers, the deeper meaning, the hidden truths are buried below the surface.

Once we have rough estimates for all the work required, we need to add in the costs to furnish the house, buy and install appliances, and do all the little things that are needed to actually open for business.  The list of costs is a long one and it's as yet unclear if the estimated projected revenue will be sufficient to cover them.  There are many months ahead of business planning, estimating, and securing funds (anyone win the lottery lately?!).  It will still be many months thereafter to actually complete the project.  One thing that is extremely heartening is that to a person, those who come into the house can't help but marvel.  They speak about the remarkable straightness of the house.  They comment on the unexpected good condition of the interior.  Few can mask their surprise at how much bigger the house is compared to its exterior appearance.

This is no small endeavor.  To say it's a big job is a gross understatement - the house is about 5,000 square feet not including the full size attic which might become another livable space.  There's a difficult decision to be made at each juncture and each one has a financial implication - a life implication - both for the short and long term.  I have the distinct feeling that when we get the estimates back from the contractors someone is going to have to pick my jaw up off the floor.  I once heard it said that a compromise is an agreement where neither party is happy and I can easily predict that there'll have to be more than a few trade-offs along the way if we're really going to be able to pull this off.

We're often reminded that life is not about the destination, but rather it's the journey that counts.  We humans are so eager to get to where we think we want to be, only to arrive there and soon be anxious to move forward again to some new goal or destination.  I know that there will come a time when we make great progress on this house and that I'll be focused on the next stage - there will always be something to do.  I must however be mindful that the urge to move forward is really an expression of the ego.  While I am aware that my motivation to tackle this project is my ego at work, I must also remember that life's real answers aren't in the future at all, but rather in the present and often just below the surface.  Dig.