Life at the Asa Wolverton House: I Married the Original "Tool Man"

Starting to break out cement floor to pour the new one. The start of my retirement home...I think not! Where are the windows?

This is getting more interesting. The infloor heating system is now at the point of looking rather "graphic". I am amazed at this construction. All the cement was carried in via wheel barrow along wooden planks

The cement floor is in. This is the view of the entire "shoe box" apartment. ...and where does the furniture go!

We must all remember the sit com "Home Improvements" with Tim the Tool Man. I remember sitting every week at 8:00 to faithfully watch and laughing at all the antics, all the while thinking that the writters must have been tapped into the reality of our own life here in Paris. This program was so well written that we could all relate to one, two or all of the characters; or where the characters created from our family.

Every since the day that golden ring was placed (or shoved) onto my finger, hubby has always had an obsession to have the biggest and best garage to store his tools, toys and treasures. The first house we lived in was one I already owned and loved so dearly. It has a lovely garage that never had the car. It was the "Italian Garage", you know, the one where the bikes, furniture, freezer garbage cans were stored. We would spend rainy summer afternoons lounging on our patio furniture. Hubby was not amuzed with this space he secretly thought of as a small closet. No room for anything, especially the big old orange truck. He would have a special name for it like, "49 Ford Pickup...a real classic". So we sold the house!

Our new neighbourhood was just down the road. The house had a conservative two car garage...workable I guess. The backyard backed onto conservation...lovely view and we were at the end of a dead end cauldersac. We soon discovered that we were the token white folk. We also discovered that we had "Mrs. Kravets" next door. Hubby immediately took to converting the garage into a shrine for his prized possessions. For the first day or so the truck sat on the driveway and trouble with the neighbours started. Day after day the bilaw officier knocked on our door, "One of your neighbours is concerned about the commercial vehicals parked on residential property"...and ten days later, the 'For Sale' sign was hammered into the ground. Eight months passed, full blown pregnant, hubby 1500 km away on a soon to end work contract, and sold house, we packed up and moved to an apartment in Paris. Yes! it did come with a three bay garage! It was a bit rocky at first but six months later, we purchased a lovely little postage stamp sized cottage on a beautifully oversized lot with an easement roadway to the back of the property on the ajoining road where hubby invisioned a 10,000 sq ft garage!

In our usual fashion, construction started the day we moved in. I cant remember a day almost 20 years later, that we havent picked up the crowbar first instead of morning coffee. ...and the Garage was our first priority. We had the most beautiful two story 1200 sq ft "RV Barn"...the envy of every Car Buff in the neighbourhood. It wasnt big enough. Had to expand. Had to purchase "the investment property" just down the road...."The boy's Club" as I call it. Hubby would tell me almost every day that one day we would reside in his garage. Over my dead body, I would say; to which he replied, "hmmm, that can be arranged". He didnt mean it but all the while he would try harder to convince me this would be the perfect life for us.

It was four years later that he broke the news that he was going to build the ultimate apartment at the back of his 'garage'. It would be so beautiful with the best features, fixtures, and furnishings. I would love it so much I would beg to move in. I rejected the idea, ranted, complained, and never would set foot on his property. I didnt even know where it was located for the first three years; just knew that it was "down the road" and hubby and son would leave every night after dinner to putter in their work shop. I was asked to help with the project and set up a floor plan. I started but didnt want any involvement....and abandoned any thought of living in "that place". As time went on, I softened and peeked at the blueprints. Not bad, but only two windows in the entire apartment. How could this fool of a man even think that I would want to live in THAT shoe box! I started wondering over out of curiosity to check on the progress. By now we were no longer living in harmony, marital bliss or what ever else it is called. And we could fight better than Liz Taylor and Richard Burton. But once the walls were up and the accessories needed to be picked, I just couldnt help jump in. Hubby was now convinced that we could finally put up the houses for sale. Wife was going to move into the garage. What could be better than that. ...and the purchase offers started to come in on our home.

I remember like it was yesterday standing in the grand room of the apartment and slowly went to tears, "where will my 9' table go, where will the piano go...and what about antique desks, all three of them! ....and the next month I purchased the Wolverton House, Money Pit, or as I fondly call it, "The Poor House" :)

After all is said and done, we have spend many months living in the apartment, which we now dub "Riverlane Suite". It was a great stay when we had no plumbing, electricity, laundry facilities and many more inconveniences while demolishing the Wolverton House. It is now a furnished luxury apartment that many people from around the world have enjoyed living in, from one night to five months. Hubby is still hoping that one day I will retire from "the big house" and move into the 'Riverlane'. And we will live happily ever after.