My paramour. My inamorata. My one true love: Craigslist.
People say Craigslist is full of crap.
And? It is.
It’s totally full of junk and overpriced oak hutches from 1980.
However? Craigslist is also the source of all awesomeness. The hutches are just there to scare off the non-believers… To test your faith and weed out the heretics.
Craigslist is like an estate sale, an antique store, and trash night, all rolled into one and delivered to your house.
If you’re not monitoring Craigslist for your heart’s desire? You’re an idiot. And I LOVE that about you… because it leaves more for ME.
I have a siren in my head that reacts to anything old, broken, giant, gilded, Victorian, fancy, or generally too large to fit in my house… and when I saw this, it went crazy.
The text of the ad that’s cut off explains that the house is being renovated into apartments, (near one of Philadelphia’s university areas,) that the wardrobe is in excellent condition… and can be removed without damaging it.
It was Sunday morning, and the time-stamp on the Craigslist ad told me it had literally JUST posted. Clearly, a message from the universe.
I RAN downstairs. What Paul calls the Craigslist-charge. He claims that he can tell, by my footsteps, the degree to which his day has just been hijacked.
And I was like—WE HAVE TO GO GET THIS RIGHT NOW.
Paul said—are you… shaking?
And I was like, please. Stop speaking. Put your shoes on. Hurry.
If someone ELSE gets this I will NEVER get over it.
Paul said—Wait a minute. What is it?
And I was like—it’s the portal to Downton Abbey… It’s everything I ever wanted… it’s a MESSAGE from the UNIVERSE.
HURRY!!
Paul said—hang on… What are you planning to do with it?
And I was like— I’m going to… eh…. Uh? What?
Let’s take a sidebar here: What is THAT about?
YOU people know what I want to do with this. And you more or less JUST met me.
My husband, on the other hand, apparently doesn’t even live on my planet.
Did I not show him Pilar Guzman’s kitchen, seven hundred times? Do I strike you as the sort of person who would fail to communicate my heart’s desire?
So I was like—I’m going to put it in the kitchen.
K.i.t.c.h.e.n.
Let me speak SUPER slowly so you understand me.
KITCH-EN. Kitch…en. Kiiiiittttcccchhheeeennn.
The room with the stove?
And? Maybe you remember seeing my dream kitchen? SEVEN HUNDRED TIMES?
And maybe you can see that this is pretty much the universe manifesting what lives in my head?
In fact, it’s possible I AM CONTROLLING THE WORLD WITH MY MIND.
Apparently, Paul was not impressed with my world-bending mind tricks. Because he said— That is not going to fit in the kitchen. And I was like, oh really? How do you even know that?
He was like—sure, okay… so how tall is it? How long is it?
And I was like— I have no idea… it doesn’t say. But it doesn’t LOOK that big.
Paul was like, believe me. That is PLENTY big. The sink is maybe about three feet tall. And it’s about the same width, so let’s say it’s three feet wide… and in comparison, the side units are even wider, let’s say four feet each, so I’d say overall it’s between 11 and 12 feet long… which is too big for the kitchen.
What is with the savant-style measuring? That is beyond aggravating.
(For anyone who wants to keep score: the entire thing is 11′ 6″ long.)
It is good that I am so skilled at ignoring reality, in favor of what I want to believe… because if I weren’t, I would have to remember that Paul has never once been wrong about this kind of thing.
He had more questions too: How is it built into the wall? How does it come apart? What floor is it on? How will we get it out? WHERE are you going to put it?
I was like, do you not SEE what I am showing you?
Your questions are IRRELEVANT.
Did I somehow neglect to emphasize my wish for GIANT FANCY THINGS?
It doesn’t matter who, what, where, when, why.
If I keep it in the garage to store my gardening tools in, WHAT do you care?
Paul said– well, can you ask them how big it is?
And I was like, I’m sorry… but you KNOW I can’t do that. We can go there and LOOK at it, and then decide, but we have to GET there first.
Let me give you some advice about Craigslist. I’ve learned it the hard way: if you MUST have something… Do not make an offer, ask a question, or otherwise confuse the situation.
If you MUST have something, and that thing is a monster Victorian Eastlake wardrobe that every antique dealer and salvage company in Philadelphia will be after? Do not even ask how big it is.
If you want it no matter what? ALL you say is:
Hi,
I want that.
I can come anytime.
I can move it myself.
I don’t need your help.
Here is my phone number.
My social security number.
My bank account number.
To stand out from the 400 emails the seller is going to get, you have to be the one person who requires nothing. You have to be a beacon of simplicity and straightforwardness.
Now is the part where Paul says I MUST tell you how I misrepresented the ease with which this would be removed.
In my defense– the guy selling it TOLD me that he had his carpenter look at it. And the carpenter said— no problem. EASY.
All you need is a screwdriver.
Plus, I had backup… if you’ve been reading me for a while, you remember Bryan, our neighbor… the one who gave me the Asian dolls and used to be an antique dealer? Well, he and I have become friends… We are allies in the belief that opportunities like this are rare and must be seized.
He assured Paul that he had removed a couple of these when he was in business and that they really do come apart EASILY. That they are put together with dowels and some well-placed screws… It’s just a matter of figuring out which piece to start with.
Which, technically IS actually true.
So Paul just took a basic bucket of tools.
Basic. Not demolition.
We’d been there for about twenty minutes and Brian said— Wow! This is an unusual piece… I don’t know how they built this!! And the guy selling it said– yeah, I’m going to leave, call me if you figure it out…
Paul looked at me.
It was not the look of love.
It was the look that said—you have failed, on all fronts, to prepare me for this job, and I cannot believe I relied on you to accurately gauge the situation, and now I am in an unheated building with no tools or skilled assistants… I am surrounded by idiots.
After an entire hour, all we had done was remove the doors.
By that time, Paul was aggravated.
Which morphed into SUPER aggravated… when he finally figured out that the magic-keystone-starter-screw was on the BACK of the wardrobe.
The OUTSIDE of the back of the wardrobe.
Watching him realize that the back panel needed to come off first… AND that there was a WALL between him and that panel… and that all he had was a hammer and a flashlight…
I almost felt bad.
Almost.
But I am only the finder.
Paul is the getter.
I DID my part.
It turns out that Paul is like the James Bond of demolition.
James can blow up a car with a bottle cap and a pack of matches… But MY husband can take apart a wall with his bare hands and a hammer.
James? You have NOTHING on my husband.
Plus? James? You international man of mystery? My husband is totally more mysterious than you.
As we got further along, it became clear that the wardrobe was added after the house was built… it was brought in, in pieces, assembled, pushed against the existing wall, and then they built a false wall around it to make it appear built-in…
Paul is sure this was the wife’s idea… and that she and I would have gotten along just fine.
In case you’re thinking that Paul was getting some satisfaction from making progress… this photo should set you straight.
In fact, he may have used the phrase: fool’s errand.
This is hour three and a half…
By now it was COLD… The building is being renovated into apartments, and there was no heat.
Was anyone having a good time at this point?
Sure! I was!
Does this NOT look like a total party?
I tried to be helpful… and motivational… and point out the positives like how the wardrobe itself REALLY did come apart with JUST a screwdriver.
Also, I tried to tell Paul how MUCH I love him!!
How really, really, really, really, REALLY a LOT… I LOVE him.
Which I cannot say he appreciated…
Usually, if you tell your husband— I adore and worship you!! There is a base-level expectation of pleasantry in return… not the stone-faced response of—I will never ever, ever, ever do this again.
Which is a total lie!! We will DEFINITELY do this again.
We will do this as many times as Craigslist deems necessary.
Although, as it turns out… Paul was correct that it will not fit in the kitchen.
In fact, it nearly doesn’t fit in our house at all.
Literally—it barely clears the ceiling at the tallest fancy piece.
To repurpose it as kitchen cabinets, we would have to chop off six inches on both sides. And I don’t think I can do that. Even though it would solve all my kitchen problems. (Or create entirely new ones.) It’s too beautiful to destroy.
So it’s residing in our living room… the only room in the house with a wall long enough… we left out the center section to accommodate the window.
Does it make the room feel tiny? Yes.
Does it utterly destroy any kind of feng shui? Yes.
Did we have to remove 47 things that used to live in here? Yes.
Does it make ALL the other furniture the totally wrong choice? Yes.
Do we need a bigger house now? Clearly.
But it doesn’t matter. I LOVE it. If given the opportunity to get fifty more, I will.
When my baby brother Matt came over he was like— whoa… that’s… huge…
And I was like I KNOW.
He said– What is it?
And I told him– It’s the PORTAL TO DOWNTON ABBEY.
And he was like, one side, sure… but the other one definitely goes to Narnia.
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June 27, 2013 @ 11:47 am
I cannot say it any better than Mellissa Rose. She took the words right out of my mouth: “ou. Are. Awesome. (and my hero). I am in love with your blog and your style.”
June 27, 2013 @ 12:59 pm
Wow this is turly one of the best love stories I’ve ever read. You have an amazing man.
June 28, 2013 @ 10:51 am
I am laughing and relating to your story. I have never brought home anything that big, yet… But your husbands reaction is classic, don’t they realize how futile it is to refuse? I found you via the post about the huge Kingdom Mirror on Craig’s List and then clicked on over to this one. Love your sense of humor. I look forward to following your renovations, all from Craig’s List! I love that you are helping to keep things out of landfills too! Vintage is the new Green!
June 28, 2013 @ 3:52 pm
That is the best piece of furniture ever and it looks like it belongs exactly in your living room, right where you put it. I think it was destined for that spot. Lovely!!!! Although, if you found an older, slightly more narrow window with stained glass detailing up top, you could just tear out the perfectly good window and make everything 1000 times better. I always say, “if it’s not broke, find a way to make it better!” And I am very impressed that you can get your husband to help you tear things out. Could you possibly write a how-to manual for that? Most of my craigslist desires fail for only having two arms (although my 8 month pregnant self did score an amazing, super-heavy 1950s dresser that I rocked back and forth from my car to apartment b/c it was perfect).
June 28, 2013 @ 7:37 pm
This whole post was amazing. Utterly amazing. I just met you fo realz, and I want to read through everything!
June 28, 2013 @ 7:40 pm
This is ridiculously uncanny – I’m gobsmacked. You could probably get crowd funding to fit this wardrobe into your kitchen now. It seems like a matter of public interest, seeing as how many people are following your blog. Once it’s finished you could charge for tours. Antique lovers from all over North America could come by worship. Know this: the fact that you found this particular wardrobe on Craigslist (and the Kingdom Mirror!) is a category of religious miracle (Miracle of supply?) Something like Malachi 3;10 or Jesus and the loaves. I bow to you.
June 28, 2013 @ 8:17 pm
Once upon a time, when I had just moved in with my wife (partner, significant other, whatever, she’s the pick-up driving, tool-belt wearing one. I’m the one who points at things for her to use tools on) that it would be cool to buy one of the historic early 1900’s homes in the Riverside neighborhood of our town (Jacksonville, FL).
She commented that such a project would make me crazy because I would have to see every option available for every piece that was needed. If it needed a new door knob, I would have to search, question and compare 850 different doorknobs, even if I loved the 3rd one. I assured her that it wouldn’t be like that with everything, only things that are visible (not inside walls). I know she’s right… even if the 3rd doorknob was everything I ever wanted in a doorknob, what if the 849th one was just as perfect and had free shipping? You never know until its 4 in the morning and you’re squinting at page 437 of a google search for Victorian doorknobs.
To this day, 12 years later, we still laugh about this conversation we had so long ago. Mainly, we quote the part where I said, “I could be like the manager and pick the stuff and show you what needs to be done and you could do the tools part.” To which, this woman, who otherwise worships the quicksand I walk on, replied without missing a beat, ” I would put a nailgun through your head faster than you can say ‘missed a spot.'”
Anyway, I LOVE your writing style and Becky says she feels Paul’s pain.
June 28, 2013 @ 9:33 pm
My mother turned me on to your blog. She has taken to calling me the Queen of Craigslist, but I bow down to your superior claim to that title. Your posts are hysterical and awe inspiring. It also describes quite accurately what happens in my marriage when see a must have on CL. Troll on!
June 29, 2013 @ 1:25 am
I got such a good laugh out of it … I shared it with hubby and he said : it’s not just us there is more…
June 29, 2013 @ 11:27 am
Please, please, please do NOT cut this fabulous thing! You are only its conduit through time.
June 30, 2013 @ 7:09 pm
Hey! I just subscribed to your blog! I did this because my husband said “I am sending you this link because this is just like you!” It was the link to the mirror story (it had a kingdom on the top!). I kept saying things as I read and looked at the pictures and then in the next sentence you would write what I just said! How did you do that?
I too am an insatiable Craigslister. I found and we (meaning Tom, my husband, and I) bought a 1962 Airstream trailer for 500 bucks on Craigslist. And then there was my armoire period where anything called an armoire was fair game to my new and improved plan of organization which was to have an armoire for every category of household item. Then there were the french doors. Our house is furnished in CL. I have been looking for five years for beachfront property on CL. I know someday I will find it for five thousand dollars and it will be just what I want. We are kindred spirits I am pretty sure.
July 1, 2013 @ 4:40 am
Oh, girl,
I know you have moved on from commenting on comments on this post, but I just have to say,
my cheeks hurt…ALL OF THEM …from laughing so hard, and trying to control myself….
I had to stop myself at least 6 times from waking my husband to read this to him, he thinks I am the only one who does this kind of stuff, and drags him, eye rolling and driving, to get what I “Need!”….but this is one thing he would been saying “WE HAVE to fit this in somehow….” and I would say, “I’ll MAKE it FIT!”, like the evil step sister on Cinderella…..
Your conversations with your hubby remind me of ours….”around and around and around we go, and where we stop, nobody knows….” we are a little diffrent version of you two, but it is good that we live on the other side of the country from you…..I can see you and I would be TROUBLE!!! This is the first I have seen you blog, and it was a reference on another blog that sent me here. Her post was “Everyone has a thing for Gold mirrors…”, and she typed, in reference to you, Her whole blog is so funny and her renovation of a 1980 Victorian house is a big undertaking.” My first thought was….”1980…..?….Victorian House…???? Big undertaking…..??? I gotta SEE this….. Okay I am sitting here still laughing rediculously about your entire saga….but I know you make it sound more funny than it actually was…..we have to laugh about such things so we don’t just give up and die over them. I can relate to the Procrastination, and I think it goes hand in hand with our perfectionism, and our “Why LIVE in reality, when our dreams are so amazing ….and So much FUN???!!!” attitude about life. “Can WE Do it???? YES WE CAN!” Just get Paul the builder and my hubby together and don’t let them say “No, I can’t!” and it will happen! You and I are dreamers of BIG plans…but they really need to be exactly what they think they could be, nothing less! I know you probably won’t be able to return a comment to me, but please know I look forward to learning more about your….Adventures in Life and on Craigslist! You would NOT believe what we just got on Craiglist….and hubby was even a PART of it!….I have NO idea how long it will take to forget this one!
Hearts to you,
Betsy
July 1, 2013 @ 10:21 am
I cannot begin to express how utterly fabulous you must be in real life. I ended up reading this post out loud to my husband and wife. I think my husband and Paul would get along quite well. And I don’t know if I can count how many times while reading this I exclaimed “I LOVE her!”. Thank you!
July 1, 2013 @ 12:47 pm
I am literally CRYING at work from laughing at this…Your line about using it to house garden tools had me in stitches. I hate when husbands try to be practical like “where are you gonna put a 12 foot behemoth piece of furniture”?! WHO CARES! I think Tim Gunn said it best when he said “make it work!” 🙂
July 2, 2013 @ 9:46 am
OH MY GOSH!!!!!! I love this, I love this, I love this. You are my sister separated at birth. (And thank you to my real, birth sister who sent me your blog). I would be scared to have this in my home because I would rub all the finish off and I lovingly caressed it as I walked past it each day. My own fantasy house which I will build someday involves many pieces such as these and also a library that rivals The library at Alexandria. But that is another story. Well done you!
July 2, 2013 @ 11:53 am
You are so lucky being on the east coast that so many lovely things can be found. Not so much on the west coast. But I have found furniture that was too large for my rooms too but bought because they were gorgeous. Carved wood and details pull my hands in to touch and caress them. Before I moved away from home, I had a Queen Anne walnut dining table and a corner china cabinet in my bedroom that was meant for a twin bed. See? We are alike. And our houses in SoCal are not built for big furniture so its crowded. Yes, the husband shakes his head sometimes too.
Val
July 3, 2013 @ 5:26 pm
OK, I have just notified the Vatican to submit your husband’s name for Sainthood!
I thoroughly enjoyed your story and pics — so funny!
Your unbridled enthusiasm is directly proportional to your husband’s dismay!
And have you learned your lesson? Not according to this —
My favorite line: “We will do this as many times as Craigslist deems necessary.”
July 5, 2013 @ 9:05 pm
OMG, saw the wardrobe and thought Downton Abbey too. I love that you had vision to use the middle sink area for the window. I don’t know that I could have cut it down to fit in the kitchen either. When I read that Paul has a name for the charge down the stairs as the Craigslist Charge I almost fell off my chair. I did a Craigslist Charge yesterday down to the garage to tell my hubby about a pile of stuff by the road 10 mins from us and I was the first caller. Hubby was busy in the workshop making things for us to sell at our flea booth, so I turned around only to do the Craigslist Charge back up the stairs to my 20 yr olds bedroom to wake him up to coerce him into helping me ( usually involves a trip thru a drive up for food on the way home). “Jared, Jared, Jared, Jared, wake up, wake up, wake up, please, please,please come with me to get some stuff by the road. Please, please get dressed NOW, please?!” is how that always goes. I have to say they both groan but are accommodating every time. I read this post out loud to my husband 1. because it was a great one of a kind find with great pics 2. because you write with such truthful humor 3. it proves I am not as crazy when it comes to Craigslist as my hubby may think. Thank You!!
July 6, 2013 @ 8:09 pm
What about angling the two “wardrobes” to make two corner cupboards with the sink between them? That would take up less space. Love your stories. And your husband is amazing, despite the glares and gritted teeth 😉
July 6, 2013 @ 8:33 pm
Yes! The Husband is what amazes me most! (Besides the incredible luck and the great taste of course.)
July 10, 2013 @ 11:43 am
This is one of the best things I’ve read on the internet, and I’ve read a lot of great things on the internet. Please tell me you’ll be writing a book when your renovations are complete. If so, you’ve already sold one copy.