This was the first house my hubby purchased-before I knew him. He lived here with his band mates and a couple of other ruffians. I moved in after we were married and we lived here for three years. It was a duplex with great rental income. Then, a good friend of my husband’s stopped by.
And….blew it up. ‘How’, you might ask?
When a friend named Beau, a mattress and a gas line intertwine, what you get is a recipe for disaster. And then when the heater kicks on…KABOOM!
(Although, it looks like silk hanging from the broken window panes…they were at one time-mini blinds.) To top it off, this happened during Christmas. Both sides of our families were visiting. Nothing says ‘Merry Christmas’ like a blown-up house. Kayle’s dad laughed when he saw it. His mother cried. I cried. Then I started laughing. But had to pretend to be crying so the cops didn’t get suspicious. The good news was that we got a great Christmas card pic out of this disaster. The house made it onto the local news and even into the paper. We had a lot of memories from this wonderful moment in time; with family and concerned neighbors standing by our sides drinking coffee as firemen retrieved our singed possessions and portions of rock continued to fall off the side of the house, etc…. We thought of printing t-shirts with the picture above and a caption that read, “I survived Christmas with the Greiman’s in 2004.” I think it would sell. We ended up selling the remnants of the house and our lot to a developer. He’s done a pretty fine job fixing it up. One would never know that the house had blown up, unless they read this.