The Devil Queen

How my wife and I sold our souls to the Queen Anne Victorian we tried to save.

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Location: Crow Mountain, Arkansas, United States

Synopsis: This is a cautionary tale. A seriously disturbed couple find the charming, old ruin of a Queen Anne Victorian in Russellville, Arkansas, and buy it for $1.00. They tore the roof off, cut it in half, and had it moved to some land they owned sixteen miles away because they didn't know any better. Since then, they have hired and fired contractors, had all of their tools stolen, re-wired, re-plumbed, insulated, and essentially rebuilt the entire house. Their only problem is that after four years it still isn't finished. Now they are tired, broke, and wonder what in the hell it is they've done to themselves. And, it's haunted.
(Last updated on April 3, 2008)

Press: Russellville Courier Article - December 2003, HGTV website article, AP story - October 2006, and Victorian Homes Magazine - February 2008 (link coming soon).
Art: From time to time, I receive requests for my art. If you would like to look at more of my art, go to The Failed Artist. If you would like to buy my art, email me. I am more than happy to answer any questions you might have. Thanks!

Friday, January 19, 2007

Aw, Hell

A couple days ago (or was that yesterday?) I mentioned that I was going to be buying a new light for our hall bath. Well, I was wrong.

I was talking to my wife on the phone, and she asked how the bathroom ceiling was coming along. I was quite proud to tell her it was finished. She then asked how the ceiling light looked and I was caught.

I make it a point to be as honest as possible with my wife, but I have some deep-seated perfidious tendencies that are hard to shake. I wasn't going to mention the light to her, buy one similar to the one she wanted me to use, and hope that she didn't notice. Ever.

I decided it was better to just tell her. At this point, it was like being caught by the Inquisition. One way or another, I was going to talk. The real question was whether I wanted my finger nails pulled off first or not.

And, so it begins.

So, I explained to her that the light had no guts et cetera. Then I explained that I was just going to get a new one and it was no big deal. She didn't go for it.

"Well, I'll call and see if they have the rest of the parts," she said.

"I'd rather not bother with it at this point. I just want something new, with all of its parts so I can finish."

"If we're getting a new one, I want to be there to pick it out with you."

"That's fine, I'll wait till the weekend and we can go together."

Actually, this is the short version of the dialogue, but it has all the important parts. While I'm a little disappointed that I'll have to wait until the weekend to finish, I really don't mind too much. I am relieved that she dropped the "I'll call and see if they have the rest of the parts" plan of action. If we travel down this road, countless hours we be sucked into a vortex of calls, searches, frustrated out bursts, fist fights, and maybe a stabbing. And, if a miracle occurs and we find all the missing pieces, I'll be stuck cobbling together some second-hand, shit-monkey, eBay reject light. This could take 15 minutes or it could take three days with second degree burns and a hernia.

This light is nothing special and is contemporary. It's not like I'm whining about it taking some time to rewire an antique Tiffany lamp. So, given a choice between the shit-monkey light and a new $40 one from Lowe's, guess which one I'm picking.

Anyhow, enough complaining.

Started work on the laundry room last night. I'm already behind schedule, but that is to be expected.


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