The Life and Times of Marguerite, Pt 2

The day Dave and I walked into our tax auction property, it was really overwhelming.  Between all of the squirrel/rat/mouse excrement, all of the previous owner's things strewn everywhere, and the air of neglect for several years, one could easily lose hope.  But underneath it all, I knew that Marguerite's house could be a home again.

There were many moments I have had in this house over the past year and a half where I felt like I got some sort of sign that I had done the right thing.  That somehow, I was the person that was supposed to buy this house and bring it back to life.  The boy in the green hat is probably the most obvious.

So I fast forward in the saga of the house to add this little aside.  I was cleaning out the house in the winter of 2015 and came across this little statue of a boy with a duck.  I couldn't place it, but it looked so familiar and somehow reminded me of my nana.  I put it aside as something I wanted to take home.  Several weeks later when I took it out at my house, I realized why.  

The girl with the duck is a music box that plays "Talk to the Animals" that nana bought for me when I was a baby.  I did a little research on these and they were made in Japan in the early 70s and they are 2 of a 6 piece set of music boxes that depict a boy or girl with animals - lambs, ducks and bunnies.  Of all the things for me to keep that belonged to nana, that survived her move from Memphis to Covington in 2004, and was not in the many things of hers that perished in a fire in 2008... this was something that I still had of hers that she bought for me.  And Marguerite somehow had the boy with the duck.  I still don't even know what to say about that one.

Anyhow, not to stray from the original timeline too far, the remainder of the house in all its former glory is depicted in the pictures below.  I think these rooms were probably the most sad (for a variety of reasons) and were definitely the ones that required the most safety gear (masks, gloves, Lysol, etc).  In retrospect, I probably should have been wearing a hazmat suit for some of this.

These photos are of the MAIN BATH

These photos are of the KITCHEN

These photos are of the BREAKFAST ROOM

These photos are of the BACK HALL

These are photos of the 2ND BATH

In cleaning out the house and after speaking to one of her sons, I learned that Marguerite spent the majority of her last five years or so in the kitchen, the breakfast room and the 2nd bath.  She slept on the tiny love seat in front of the temporary wall in the breakfast room and stayed in these rooms with the closest access to her toilet with the raised seat, the step in shower, and kitchen.  

These three areas were by far the most disgusting as you can imagine what a kitchen, bathroom and living area would look like after not cleaning for at least 5 years, then leaving them unoccupied except by critters for an additional 6 years.  There were stains running down the walls in the breakfast room that wouldn't come off.  The grease in the kitchen was thick with dust and required an industrial de-greaser to remove.  There was carpet (yes carpet) in the kitchen and the breakfast room that was so compressed with spills that it was stuck to the wood floor underneath (it wouldn't rip out or roll up like carpet should).  And I don't really remember removing the toilets.  I think I may have blocked out that memory entirely.

But by far the thing that bothered me the most was the little love seat her son told me she slept on for years in the breakfast room.  As I was cleaning up that room... or moreso bagging up trash and removing things from it... I tried to scoot the couch out from the wall just to clean behind it.  It wouldn't budge.  Now this was well before my near death experience with sepsis and I was as strong as I have ever been.  I am a pretty stout girl and can usually move things by myself.  Hell, I hung cabinets by myself: holding the cabinet up with one arm while mounting it to the wall with the drill in the other hand.

I digress.  You get the point... I ain't no wussy.  This couch wouldn't budge.  I take off the cushions and discover it is a sleeper sofa.  First thought, of course, totally heavier, now I get it I guess.  Upon further inspection, there wasn't a mattress inside.  I'm thinking, how do you sit on this with no springs and no mattress in the fold out.  So I pull back the fabric that should hold the mattress and got my answer.  Marguerite had stuffed it with wood and old quilts... like random 2x4s, plywood of various sizes, shelf boards, and quilts with holes in them.  

So this little love seat that she basically lived on and slept on for years was full of wood and old quilts so it wouldn't fall in.  I think that probably says more about the situation she was left in than anything else.