Monday, July 10, 2006
The Spanko Residence, Part Two
Here, my friends, is the second part of this multi-part series that discusses how the Spakowiak family came to live, love, and spank in a barn. Part One was published yesterday, and you may scroll down if you wish to puruse that episode prior to enjoying this one.
We walked through the house and found it sturdy, quaint, and cheery. Unfortunately, as was our experience, the main domicile did not have as much room as we would have prefered. I was prepared to thank the real estate agent and be on my way, when, in her politely pushy way, she convinced me to have a look at some of the other buildings on the property.
There were three other structures. One was a good sized garage, that would hold perhaps three cars as well as providing work space for woodworking and mechanical repairs. The second building was a generous storage shed. These were nice and in good repair, but not of much other note. The last, and most interesting, building that we toured was the barn.
When I entered the barn, the first thing that I noticed was that it was, I believe the term is, humoungus. The roof appeared to be at least thirty feet in the air, and the floor looked like it would comfortably house a 747 airplane or a basketball gymnasium, complete with a couple of thousand seats. As I continued to examine it, I discovered that the building was quite sturdy. No, that is an understatement. I believe that the building was so sound that it could be hit by a Class V hurricane or a volley of artillery shells and show nary shudder. The framing and support joists were made of old-growth lumber that was a full twelve-inches square, and there were a lot of them. The wood that made up the up the walls of the barn were cedar and well cared-for, if a bit weather-beaten. And the place smelled wonderful!
There was only one problem. Inside the barn, there was nothing between the walls except space. The building was completely empty and unfinished. Since I didn’t have a 747 or a basketball team, I did not see a use for the place. So we expressed how impressed we were with the property, but it really didn’t meet our needs. We again thanked the real-estate agent and headed for home.
Angela was oddly quiet on the drive home. I attributed her silence to the fact that it had been a long day and that she was likely tired. As we neared our rented house, I asked her if she was planning to head straight for bed. Curiously, she indicated that she was not tired.
When I inquired further, she confided that she was intrigued by the old farmstead that we had just toured. I pointed out that the house was far too small for our wishes, but she indicated that it was not the house that had piqued her interest, but the barn. I asked her what she found so fascinating about a big old empty barn.
“You know,” she replied, “If we bought that house, I could spank you in that barn every day.”
To be continied. I'm not promising anything, but part three just might involve some spanking.
Part Three ==>
We walked through the house and found it sturdy, quaint, and cheery. Unfortunately, as was our experience, the main domicile did not have as much room as we would have prefered. I was prepared to thank the real estate agent and be on my way, when, in her politely pushy way, she convinced me to have a look at some of the other buildings on the property.
There were three other structures. One was a good sized garage, that would hold perhaps three cars as well as providing work space for woodworking and mechanical repairs. The second building was a generous storage shed. These were nice and in good repair, but not of much other note. The last, and most interesting, building that we toured was the barn.
When I entered the barn, the first thing that I noticed was that it was, I believe the term is, humoungus. The roof appeared to be at least thirty feet in the air, and the floor looked like it would comfortably house a 747 airplane or a basketball gymnasium, complete with a couple of thousand seats. As I continued to examine it, I discovered that the building was quite sturdy. No, that is an understatement. I believe that the building was so sound that it could be hit by a Class V hurricane or a volley of artillery shells and show nary shudder. The framing and support joists were made of old-growth lumber that was a full twelve-inches square, and there were a lot of them. The wood that made up the up the walls of the barn were cedar and well cared-for, if a bit weather-beaten. And the place smelled wonderful!
There was only one problem. Inside the barn, there was nothing between the walls except space. The building was completely empty and unfinished. Since I didn’t have a 747 or a basketball team, I did not see a use for the place. So we expressed how impressed we were with the property, but it really didn’t meet our needs. We again thanked the real-estate agent and headed for home.
Angela was oddly quiet on the drive home. I attributed her silence to the fact that it had been a long day and that she was likely tired. As we neared our rented house, I asked her if she was planning to head straight for bed. Curiously, she indicated that she was not tired.
When I inquired further, she confided that she was intrigued by the old farmstead that we had just toured. I pointed out that the house was far too small for our wishes, but she indicated that it was not the house that had piqued her interest, but the barn. I asked her what she found so fascinating about a big old empty barn.
“You know,” she replied, “If we bought that house, I could spank you in that barn every day.”
To be continied. I'm not promising anything, but part three just might involve some spanking.
Part Three ==>
