THE HOUSE (in twenty-two days)

THE GUESTS AT HOUSE OF BISE BESPOKE

Walk-ups, low-rise to mid-rise to high-rise, I’ve always thought of myself as an apartment dweller. And thought I would be for life. That is until my cherished classic-six had a flood and a few days later an opportunity to rent a seven bedroom house presented itself, almost magically. I will admit becoming the caretaker of such a large house, on a double lot, located on the dodgy-end of a semi-popular Cleveland street scared the bejesus out of me. But, like most things in my life, after some praying with wine, I saw it as a sign—that being fearful is a great motivator and that that flood happened for a reason. And I was going to change the misconceptions of “dodgy” Cleveland via a popular B&B site—renting five of the seven bedrooms to interesting guests. Each bedroom would have a name with a theme: The Nomad Room, The Poetry Room, The Music Room, The Photography Room and The Art Room. Oh, and I was going to do it in less than a month with a budget of $6,200.00. In order to keep myself sane and motivated—to keep to my budget, I journaled each day’s rambling accomplishments.

DAY ONE:

The house isn’t finished: No hot water nor a kitchen and the driveway is a pool of mud. I decide to keep my appointment with the four guys I hired to help move the heavy items from my top-floor walk-up to the house about a mile away. At $125 an hour, I was hustling my forty-six year-old arse with them—up and down those fifty steps. Up and down. Up and down. I felt-like Rain Man--$125, now $250, up to $375, $500, now at $625 circled my mind as we unloaded the truck into the house. Fuck, that’s money I could have used for a bed. Keep moving.

DAY TWO:

The beginning of my “glamping” in the house: With no kitchen, the first-floor bathroom is my sink—and coffee station. Caffeine infused, I start to install the curtains and hardware and the art. (Over the years, I have become the Peggy Guggenheim of castaway art, aka, stuff people chuck.) I’m really feeling the soreness of those fifty-steps from the day before as I go up and down the ladder, so I ponder the actual results of Suzanne Somers’ Thighmaster.

DAY THREE:

I set-up the first of my guest bedrooms. It’s done. I continue to install curtain rods in the other rooms. I take a quick break to search for more beds. Antique stores, thrift stores, Offer-up and so on. I find nothing, so I go back to working in the house. I relocate more furniture from other parts of the house. By 9pm, I am starving. I go to a local super market to purchase some prepared food and a bottle of wine. I can only drink half a glass. That’s a rarity, for me. I’m in bed by 10:30pm. Another one-off.

DAY FOUR:

I clean more. All I do is wash floors. Drywall dust is everywhere. As I clean, I wonder when my kitchen will be complete. Ordering prepared food is going to be expensive, I think, and I can’t even keep the leftovers because I still do not have appliances... Instead of thinking more about “no kitchen,” I take a break and go to a resale shop. I find an Art Deco bed for $35. Sold. I’m now feeling that rush of a great bargain. It was a good day.

DAY FIVE:

I set-up the next bedroom with my bargain-Deco-find. I still need a mattress, but I’ll worry about that later. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. They installed the new hot water tank. I take hot Epsom salt bath, to relieve my body aches. From this day onward I take two salt-infused baths a day. (Yeah, I’m brining myself)

DAY SIX:

Getting used to the glamping, now that I have hot water. I rearrange the boxes packed with all of my dishes, china, crystal, posts and pans, wines glasses and silver. I stack them along the wall across from where the kitchen cabinets will be. At this point, I wonder why I have not lost thirty pounds by now. Seriously, six days of working-out like this I should be a size four! I tell myself that it must be the self-brining to ease my daily aches. Salt water weight, definitely. I find a queen-sized sleigh bed on Offer-up. The seller sold and delivered it for $100. I am happy with that. I carried it up three flights of stairs. I purchased another full-size bed for $35. I am so exhausted with moving furniture. I order a box-spring and mattress online for the sleigh bed. I drink two glasses of wine with a pizza. I’m in bed by 10:00pm.

DAY SEVEN:

Hang more rods and curtains. Hang more art. Clean more. Install the bathroom hardware—toilet paper holders, shower rods, towel racks. Go to the laundry mat. Get home, iron all of the sheets. Think about my boxes of books. A friend said he’d let me borrow his two bookshelves for three years. I’m thankful, but I sure do need him to bring them to me. Stacked boxes full of dog-eared pages is taking up half of the parlor. Besides china and silver, I have a lot more books. I wonder when I will have time to read, again.

DAY EIGHT:

I clean the rafters in the basement. They are full of spider webs. I decided to use a cheap mop dosed in disinfectant to wash them. I actually disinfected myself, too, as I use the mop upside down. Not-so smart of me. But the rafters are now clean. I found two discontinued full-size mattresses and box springs online. They deliver, too, for free.

DAY NINE:

The third bathroom in the basement is disgusting. I clean it once and it still isn’t clean. I go to Home Depot. Purchase TSP and another highly concentrated cleaner. Scrub the grout with a toothbrush. It still doesn’t look clean, to me. I’m getting slightly upset that the bathroom wasn’t clean when I moved in. I decide to just focus on cleaning it, again. Every day the house is not set-up, I’m losing money. I need to finish setting-up. Focus. My friend finally delivered his book shelves. So happy. Takes me eight hours to set-up the library wall.

DAY TEN:

My landlord delivers the refrigerator. Holy crap. It’s nicer than my car. Still no countertops or kitchen sink or stove, but I now have a place for leftovers! In celebration, I set-up the dining area. Work on it for a few hours, then decide to relocate part of the sectional in the living room to the other end of the house. Use a moving quilt to slide the monster. Decide the loveseat on the second floor would look better on the first floor. I relocate that too. I am sore, so I brine and go to bed again, early.

DAY ELEVEN:

My mother comes for a visit. She doesn’t understand why my house is not complete. I want to scream, “I’m working really f’n hard here by myself.” I don’t. She wants to go shopping. All I want to do is set-up the house. I appease her. We go to an antique store. She bargains and purchases six beautiful French lithographs for the house. I’m thankful, for them and her generosity.

DAY TWELVE:

I need another dresser. I go hunting at thrift stores. Find nothing. Bed, Bath & Beyond is near-by. I go. I experience another bargain-rush in the final clearance section. Purchase four more pairs of sheets, curtains and a duvet cover. Super elated. I’ve been blowing-off my friends. I feel badly, but I need to stay focused. And even though they text that they will come to me, I am a bit embarrassed for them to see that I have been “glamping” in my new house. I have been telling them, “Soon.” My dearest friend finally told me, “No. I’m bringing food and wine tonight.” I’m glad she did. It was good to unwind.

DAY THIRTEEN

Laundry mat to wash the newest sheets. Home to iron them. Then finish the third bedroom that will sleep five. I am exhausted. And FINALLY I have cabinets, kitchen sink and counters. No more washing my few unpacked dishes in the bathtub. I pull an all-nighter, washing all of the kitchen stuff, lining cabinets, and organizing the kitchen.

DAY FOURTEEN

Organize the basement. Ugh. This is not a fun project. I stop.

DAY FIFTEEN

I fine-tune the rooms. Realize I need more lamps. Back to thrift and antique store hunting. Find some. Purchase super phone chargers for the future guests. My landlord connects the washer and dryer.

DAY SIXTEEN

Find a dresser for $30. Refinish it on the front porch, thinking about how I will write the house description advertisement.

DAY SEVENTEEN

I have the main living areas ready. I have three bedrooms ready. The outside looks terrible, but the interior is actually rather beautiful. I contact a photographer to shoot the interior of the house. (I will set-up the other two bedrooms, once I start making money from the other three)

DAY EIGHTEEN

I decide to tackle the front driveway. Mud just isn’t good for cars. Go to Lowe’s to buy four bags of gravel (200lbs). Get home, thinking I am going to fill all of those mini ponds. Nope. Doesn’t even completely fill one hole. Go back and get more. Still not enough. Frustrated, I drive to a place where I can buy in bulk. They will deliver for $20. I borrow a rake. So exhausting raking gravel. A little wine and a lot of brining. Collapse in bed.

DAY NINETEEN

Photo shoot day. I wake-up early to stage the house. Walk-in the kitchen, there’s water all over the floor. Of all days! I spend my “staging” time, mopping the floor. The ceiling keeps leaking. The “show must go on.” Nothing is going to stop this photo shoot. And it doesn’t.

DAY TWENTY

Still waiting for the photos, I write the house description:

“IN THE SPIRIT OF HOSPITALITY: THERE IS NO EXTRA CHARGE FOR ADDITIONAL PEOPLE OR CLEANING OR BREAKFAST. THE BOOKING PRICE IS THE PRICE. Nothing in The House of Bise Bespoke is cheaply crafted. The majority of the art is original. The host has tediously found 100% natural bed linens for the perfect night’s sleep, the house towels are Italian Frette or Christy UK, daily dishware is bone china or porcelain and flatware is sterling silver. This is not your typical Airbnb shared house; it’s a bit different with a lot of genuine thought by the host, inspired by her European upbringing. Even though the house is shared with other guests and the primary home of the host, you’ll never feel that you do not have your privacy. In addition to your private room: There’s a library, music parlor, front porch, coffee nook, dining and lounge areas for all to enjoy. You'll have use of the full kitchen with new LG appliances. Laundry and parking, too.”

I start to question if anyone would book a room. Field of Dreams, I just don’t know.

DAY TWENTY-ONE

Back to fixing the yard. But it keeps raining. Seriously, I am tired of the rain. Every time they say they are going to come to fix the exterior, it rains. It just keeps raining. I think about finding a book on how to repair door trim and siding. I am tired of waiting for people. I should just do it myself. How did I get myself in a house again? It’s exhausting.

DAY TWENTY-TWO

I receive the photos of the house around 9PM. I decide to upload them on the online site. I click “publish,” thinking no one will book for a few weeks, so I think I would have plenty of time to pen the House Rules. I was wrong. All three rooms are booked, instantly. Shit. Here we go…

TODAY: DAY TWO-THOUSAND-NINETY

I have spent the night with thousands of strangers. The house has become a passport, intertwining the guests’ personal journeys with my own.