Brood House?
A mystery within the one car garage are 3 propane nozzles protruding from the north wall of the oblong building. The stages in which the concrete was poured also remains a mystery, in addition to the odd-shaped room with its own door on the narrow east end of the building. As we have worked the remodeling process, we have taken to calling it, "The closet." Outside doors on walk-in closets isn't the most ridiculous architectual innovation I have ever dealt with.
During a recent ramble through my personal "Fake Book," I ran across my souvenir CD from Fame Studios in Muscle Shoals, Alabama. The one I made to lighten my mental state at the end of the Fort Defiance Funeral Pilgrimage for Big Bro in Spring of 2017. I didn't take the time to listen to it this time, either, but the memory jog freed my thoughts from my scathing opinions of the U.S. one-car garage designs to embrace new possibilities. I began to see the closet as a sound booth with soundproof glass between the main room and the booth. An outside entrance makes allot more sense on a sound booth than a closet.
As I let those possibilities wander during the finishing details of the main room, an old picture from the mid 60's when my in-laws first bought this place. In this picture, the building had a crusty looking man with chickens at his feet in the place of the garage door. It brought the wonder if those 2 evenly spaced propane nozzles in the main room were for warming poultry brood cages and the 3rd nozzle in the odd sized room was the hatching incubator. For sure, the plank siding we discovered under the 60's aluminum siding is possibly even older than the automotive romance which gave us the American Garage design I so utterly disrespect. Maybe even older than the propane nozzles?
Hubby's eyes lit up when I shared the image of sound proof glass in the current opening between the two rooms. He has sounded far more comfortable calling the awkward space, "The sound booth" than he had with any of the other candidates we have played with since the speculation began in 2013. Would it be too kinky to call this rendition of the odd little building, "The Brood House?"
By whatever name, the main room is nearly ready for use. I am currently waiting for the newly applied floor polish to dry. Might need to do another coat or perhaps a stronger sealant for the abused concrete. The slab in there is much less used than the concrete floors in the honey barn, but the decades of neglect under that indoor/outdoor carpet and its adhesives might have been more damaging than the cow hoofs and work boots.
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Oh the joys of floor work. I’m still feeling the twitching of frustration, compulsion and irritation with the flooring in our house.
This past summer when we moved in, with permission from our landlord, my mom & I pulled up the unfortunate dog piddle ridden wool carpet to reveal the oak floor beneneath and found vacated termite nests and runs. The carpet has been down since at least the late sixties so there’s no way to know if the temites had been treated or not. So far we didn’t find any other signs of activity.
Unfortunately my mom hit her limit of what she was willing to invest in helping me refinish the wood floor and fix the termite damage when my landlord opted for just using wood filler for the damage than properly removing and replacing the damaged sections as should be done. Now it bothers me something fierce because it seems like a half assed job. I can’t actually finished the final fill yet as it had to settle and completely dry. My mom did a quick finish job and it bothers me.
My landlord loves what we did though, oblivious to the details that bug the hell out of me and keeps pressuring me to pull the rest of the carpet in both the dining room & foyer, then refinish the floors. My mom refused on account of the termite damage we found. But iit bothers me still and I think come spring the dining room is going to lose that evil carpet and get refinished whether I have my mom’s help or not.
Sorry..., venting...
I like the “brood house” idea. We have a little closet in our basement that I’d love to sound proof for purposes of screaming sessions for those days you just need to curse it all out at the top of your lungs until your throat is sore.
Hugs & support & good luck with the “brood house”, Arfie.
My floors would probably drive you up a wall, Vltava. Sealed concrete is my preference. Whatever the cover up, it eventually causes problems and I am not much bothered by appearances. By the sheerest of coincidence, all my houses have looked like they were decorated by an engineer. Far more form than flash. Don't even talk to me about carpet. My favorite thing about both Europe and South America is not having to breathe carpet toxins either human made or quasi-natural. Natural stuff thrives in carpet, but it is far from a natural environment. Not my favorite branch of creepy crawlers, to be sure.