# 581 - House of Perpetual Construction

We live in the House of Perpetual Construction, established (somewhat) in 2016, but it has a potpourri of current-day unfinished sections.

Why?

Over ten years ago, in 2013, we left a comfortable life in the suburbs of Greater Houston to move onto raw acreage that we'd owned and held onto since our early thirties. The time had come to tackle building a custom home or spend a lot of time planning to build one.

We'd eventually did build our house, partly through our own efforts and partly through contractors.

In 2013, we sold our beloved house in the suburbs and over-stuffed our brand new RV with "essentials. The rest of our belongings were either sold, given away, or put in storage, to include my piano.

Stefie was a HUGE help for us to get moved.

The day we closed on our house and handed over the keys to the front door, we left for the country. Pappy pulled the new RV as I drove our other vehicle that towed a utility trailer loaded down with an assortment of items.

The guys bringing huge furniture
down the curved stairway.

We already had chickens. Yes, in the suburbs we owned livestock... hens. We'd gotten the blessings of our neighbors to jumpstart raising chickens, and everyone enjoyed regular fresh eggs and knew which door to knock on whenever an egg or herb was needed for a recipe.

There he goes with the RV as I follow with the coop.

Moving to the country meant transporting the chickens, so as Pappy towed the new RV, I hauled the tied-down chicken coop through Houston's highways. Ah yes, I did get a lot of good-hearted waving with huge smiles, honking, and thumbs-up. Thankfully I encountered good-humored drivers.

The chickens were inside a locked cage, partially protected from winds by a tarp. Not the normal sight going down a Houston highway.

Once we arrived "Home" to our acreage, Pappy got the RV into position, and we unloaded as much as we could. We were literally exhausted.

Our first hour living on our acreage.
We both had been working for
days to get ourselves moved and were drained.

We lived without electricity during those initial weeks, but we pulled enough power from a generator to get through the month of May and June in Texas. 

My dad drove the near two hours to visit,
and he noticed my fuel container and filled it for me.
It'd last about six hours before needing refilling.

Our temporary laundry facility.

We also didn't have internet/wifi. We cooked with propane and depended on water in holding tanks to take showers, wash dishes, and flush the toilet. With water already ran to the front of the acreage, we could haul it to the RV... a huge pain.

Every day, we had a LOT to do.

Our first day on the acreage as full-time residents.

Boy... it's a good thing significant hurdles didn't stop us from moving forward.

In those days and still today, I often think of our ancestors traveling across rugged landscapes without a Taco Bell, McDonalds, or Starbucks to rejuvenate their energy. No comfortable bed to sleep in. No bathroom. No dishwasher or stove/oven that didn't require starting a fire for every cooked meal or pot of coffee or cup of tea.

Granted, it's about a 25-mile round-trip for us to go to town, so we didn't go, unless desperate.

Pappy had not yet retired when we moved out here. He still worked in downtown Houston, meaning he had to drive 150-mile round-trips five days a week.

And the week before moving to our acreage, he got promoted and that meant going back to night-shift. Yep, we moved to a rural part of Texas to "camp" on our acreage, and I suddenly found myself alone in the woods every night. The nightshift lasted for about THREE YEARS.

My friends and family thought I was nuts, "Aren't you terrified to be out there all alone?"

No, I wasn't.

The only thing that terrified me were ominous Texas storms. Those unforgettable cracking sounds as lightning struck the tops of nearby pines got my attention. I always looked forward to the next morning's walk to search for the tree that had been struck. I would find them as close to the RV as the strike had sounded. Fun times. 

During those initial years on the land, living in the RV, I cooked the best country meals because we didn't have energy left to drive to Taco Bell. I must say, I often love my own cooking and would make enough to have ample leftovers to send with my husband for his lunch the next day and for me to have another meal. 

I won't lie... I did miss the spacious kitchen I enjoyed at our last house, but the RV kitchen wasn't too shabby. I felt a part of the "Small House" movement. Crazy people living crazy lives.

My former sizable yet cozy kitchen.

Our little, efficient kitchen,

It took about TWO YEARS to start building. We never thought we'd live in an RV for very long, but we did. I'm thankful we bought a spacious, new RV, but we obviously weren't in a hurry to move into another house. I think we needed a time-out to think about what we wanted in our next home.

And I admit, the process of designing and building a new home in the woods wasn't an easy task.

My sister, who is a school counselor, would call my procrastination, "Paralysis by analysis." 

Overthinking things.

Constant planning with mounting fear of actually beginning, so the planning continues, and on, and on.

Views from inside the RV were peaceful.

Mainly, we used to seasons to closely watch the patterns of changing weather and how it affected the acreage as we searched for the perfect spot to build. And then that became my excuse to not start the process of building. 

Deep down, I was terrified that I'd end up with a house qualifying first on the list of the "TOP TEN HOMELIEST OF HOMES" from my worst-imagination or some such nonsense.

The funny thing is... more than two years later, we finally picked the spot. Never mind the fact that it was the exact spot my husband had thought would work best before we moved to the acreage... I had to have the idea settled within me. Settled and mildewing. It took nearly three years to go full circle before confirming our house-site, but it's at a great elevation and not in a flood plain. We have a beautiful view and are tucked in deep enough in the forest to make life an adventure in nature, yet close enough to the road for emergency services.

I can't believe it's been over six years since we built the shell of our house. And I can't believe we still have SO MUCH to do. We went strong for a few years, and now we go through long stints of "burn-out," and then a we'll have stints where we work at least ten to fifteen hours per day on projects while still needing to find the time to tackle day-to-day regular chores.

But we plug away. Each project finished brings a great sense of accomplishment and pride in the home we created.

Dirt nightmare. Before grass.

And now I've got to think about our next project for the house of perpetual construction.

Sweeping and mopping the floors; weeding the garden; staining more interior doors; finish painting the exterior of the house; finish the master bathroom; complete the stairway that I maybe should've had carpeted; install bar tops; and the list is long, long... very long, my friend.