It is so strange living in an old house. I am not sure if it is because there are so few here or if it is the same with all old home owners... but (and it is a big BUT), I find myself going through these incredible mood swings about it. Most of the time I am so exstatic about living here. It is a one of a kind, it has a history that is precious to me, it has withstood this harsh desert for the same amount of time as has my family. Then we get quotes of $2000 per window for replacement (we have either 12 or 20 windows depending on how they count it), there are galvanized steel pipes that may need replacement, there is all that horendous paint to strip off to return the wood to a glorious state. And then I get a sense of shock... "Oh My Goodness, what in the world did we get ourselves into".
Then I sit near the pool or on the front porch and those dollar signs and the amount of hard labor that this place needs seems to fade away into a doable sort of feeling. I do really love this house and all teh mysteries it has within its walls and history.
I don't think I could really have said it any better than what was said over at the Big Yellow House. (though we don't have the 7 children, I could certainly get a bunch here, we also do not need a house jack).