2009 was a wild year

Just in one year I asked my girlfriend to marry me in Charleston, one month later on Mother’s Day I’d find out we’d be starting a family and I was in the middle of closing a coffee shop I had opened the year before. Tumultuous but exciting. Life was good, solid job at the steakhouse, wife and child on the way. Biggest issue was we were living in a little one bedroom 900 sq ft loft downtown with two cats. We were going to have to move before our baby arrived and real estate was complete shit from the recent housing market crash meaning I couldn’t sell the condo for what I paid for it so I had to rent it out.

We shopped for houses for a few months and found a nice, little semi updated bungalow in San Souci. A good sized 4 bed 3 bath two level. The upstairs attic had been renovated hence the bungalow style but still two levels. The price was right. It was a little roomier than what we needed but knowing we had a kid on the way, both sides of our families would be coming to see the new crown jewel of the family. Man we’ve lost so many people in our family since that year..

We bought the house on the 19th of December, had to take down the tree and do it all over again. Celebrated Christmas while unpacking everything and putting together all the baby furniture that had been sitting in boxes all over the condo in transit, waiting for the eventual relocation. Jess was about to burst at the seams 9 months with Lily kicking around . We were under a little pressure. Jess’ health insurance ended January 1st and well, we needed Lily to pop on out quickly. And on the 29th she did. Jess and I never really had time to enjoy hanging out and doing regular couple things after our engagement like normal folk. We had a family to plan. Sometimes I wonder if that made some of our marriage uphill at times because we had so many responsibilities immediately that we never seemed to have time to just be us together. We’ve done quite a bit since then to make up for it but we could’ve used some at that time. That Christmas was a blur. I don’t remember much. We were too anxious about the upcoming forever present on the way.

Our beautiful little girl was born with all things attached and we came home to build our forever nest.

Our home became a revolving door for friends and family to come hang out and see our baby. Gifts were bought, food was always on the counter to graze. The kitchen in the house was the selling point. Granite everywhere, shaker caninets with expensive pull handles, stainless appliances with wonderful BTUs to cook with, extra wide sink to fill with baby bottles. The rest of the house had been somewhat updated with the budget of a People Magazine. But it was ok. During my free time I had intended on updating it room by room.

Before Lily could even crawl I had managed to rid the house of all wallpaper and had ripped the carpet out over the hardwoods downstairs and had it all refinished. The den and office had vinyl flooring and so much padding underneath that I had 2 inch gaps between the existing trim and the floor. This house was going to be amazing I thought at that time. I spent one weekend redoing my daughter’s whole bedroom. Made a bench for her, upholstered it, built shelves for her books I’d read to her at night. Even welded a giant metal “L” with lights on the wall. Spent my whole Sunday from start to finish. Four coats of paint. I’ll never paint a room yellow again. That nesting guy got lost in that house over time. I’ve been searching for him the last three years.

Two months after we moved we had some family come into town to stay for a few days. Unbeknownst to us the old clay piping leading down from the house to the street was getting swissed and crushed by tree roots. All it took was a few too many toilet flushes from a heavily visited household to fill those pipes up. I’m not ignorant to the logistics of plumbing. When you flush it’s suppose to go down. When there’s no down to go it comes back up. And it did. Through every orifice in the house. Sinks, toilets and tubs. All overflowed. The upstairs bathroom was directly above the downstairs bathroom. It rained on the downstairs bath while I plunged shit out of every sink in the house. What about your home warranty? Oh we had one. Called them immediately. They came out and surveyed the situation. “Oh article 6 paragraph 12 on page 59 states if your plumbing doesn’t have an existing clean out we can’t cover it”. $2000k was the estimate. I had just bought the house 2 months before. Cash flow wasn’t there. I reached out to an old high school buddy Kenny and his brother who were plumbers and they knocked that down by half and took care of it for us. And yes they added a clean out. By this time I had a stained ceiling over my one of my bathrooms and what would eventually turn into floor rot under the tile. I had planned on saving up to get that repaired sooner than later. Hopefully. The house behaved itself for a bit although that summer we found out the hardway that the hvac wasn’t enough to cool the whole house. They didn’t update the hvac when they added the rooms upstairs. Just shoved in more duct work. During peak summers we’d keep the ceiling fan in the bedroom on high with the door always closed. The master bedroom had a nook that I would tack a sheet over to consolidate the cubic feet in the bedroom to maintain a comfortable temp. Our other option was the bedroom downstairs on the other side of the house. Lily’s room was directly across from ours. Moving downstairs would’ve placed her at the other end of the house and upstairs from us. When you have an infant child that’s just not acceptable.

About a year after our purchase I was given a promotion to regional manager from my old company AZ. So from aside my regular work responsibilities my mid weeks consisted of traveling to Columbia and Atlanta. I enjoyed my new position but wasn’t big on being out of town with a wife and a two year old at home by themselves. Any home updates were put on hold for a bit while I transitioned into more work load and schedule. “I’ll get to that once I slow down again” was a popular phrase for me. Also around this time I was distracted with another project. My old partner and I were revving up ideas for a restaurant concept. We had been shopping around for awhile but recently it had been picking up steam.

We liked the house, it was plenty big enough maybe even a little larger than what we anticipated since we had no plans of expanding our family “unless you’re willing to carry the next one” my wife told me. Our daughter has her own playroom downstairs, I used the den for a little gym set up and we kept the back bedroom set up for company. Life was a-ok there for a the first two or three years.

When we opened Southern in 2012 I had commited some sweat equity out of my pay. I took a 50% pay cut from AZ to soften the operations account for SC and would sweat it out for a bit until we could possibly have equity checks distributed. Southern did well after the initial slow poke opening. The small checks kept us above water for a bit but there was no cash flow to assist any home renovations. My handyman skills are extremely limited. I know enough to get by but I’m sure as fuck not a DIY guy when it comes to construction or electrical. The house wasn’t falling down around our ears mind you but it always seemed a permanent construction zone at times.

Our neighbors were fine around the neighborhood. They all kept to themselves. We lived there for 11 years and I can’t tell you anyone’s name on our street. I’m not exactly neighborly myself so.. Our yard was huge and mostly due to my busy schedule I hired someone to keep our yard up. I never bought a lawnmower for that house. I had a rake, shovel and a leaf blower that would get some use in down the road.

We never used the back bedroom for anything other than staging a spare bedroom and we folded our laundry back there. It was also the coldest part of the house during summer so on nights I couldn’t sleep I would crawl down there in the corner of the house with a blanket wrapped around me and fall asleep. The back room was actually quite cozy, even had a little gas fire place. We never used it. Couldn’t keep the pilot light lit.

I often had odd dreams in that back bedroom. At first I’d remark to my wife that I had a dream about a relative that had passed. A very realistic one of my father while I slept one night where I could physically feel him hug me. Several about my brother and had a few from my stepfather after he passed in a motorcycle accident. I had never dreamt about them since we moved from that house. I can’t accurately recall if I dreamt of them upstairs in the master but downstairs it was multiple times. Nothing strange or any words just presence and the memory of seeing them in my sleep. Never thought much about it at the time. I used to have some whack dreams. I don’t really dream anymore which is strange.

I spent many a night down there. Sometimes I’d dream often times I just slept. The really odd dreams started coming a couple of years later. I’d go downstairs some nights and lie down back in that room usually around 3am. That was always the witching hour for me. If I woke up around that time it usually meant I wasn’t going back to sleep. I had terrible sleeping habits while I worked in the restaurants. Stress didn’t allow for comfort.

So for several years I’d go “nap” in that room until 5:30 or 6 when I’d get up for work.

On occasion when I’d lay down I would feel some “thing” would sit down beside me on the bed. Of course it would scare the shit out of me. I’d sit up and say my wife’s name and would hear nothing. I’d swing my arms hard to see if they would hit something. My child was too small to make her way downstairs. Sometimes it would feel like something was sitting on my back like sleep paralysis which is what I wrote it off as. How the room was set up if the moon was bright enough certain nights it’s light would shine on the main wall beside the bed. Almost like a projection screen. The wall would look eerie from the night time clouds causing the wall to look like it was breathing or smoky. I don’t believe in much and it takes a bit for me to get spooked so sometimes I’d just stare at the wall and watch it move. One night I watched it and it started to make out symbols. Sharp pointed curves, circles, star shaped would whisp on that wall and I just lay there and watch them dance. Hell of a dream.. Sometimes when I’d turn the other way I’d dream of a little girl praying/kneeling beside my bed. One time I kicked at her and she billowed away like a campfire smoke. I have to admit it gave me chills. A few times I remember feeling something breathing on me. I seem to recall someone house sitting for us and telling me the same thing. That room was never warm. The rest of the house could be 70° that room was always cold. Eventually we kept the door shut to that room. I still think I was dreaming. After several of these encounters when I felt something sit beside me I would sit up and say “go away” and it did. Then I lie back down like it was the norm. I didn’t share much of this with my wife at the time. She would’ve made us move. When we adopted our dog Lucy a pitbull/ Dane mix I started to sleep a little better. I forgot to mention that I would have multiple dreams of home invasions when I slept in that house. My wife always said she didn’t care for the back bedroom and rarely went back there unless it was to fold laundry. Once the dog started barking into the back bedroom with the door closed my wife pretty much stayed out of there. There were other little oddities like my wife would smell cologne in our bedroom at night when I was out of town. I don’t wear any sort of cologne or body spray. One night a light danced across our room while we were in bed. One morning around Christmas our den floor made a loud knock like something large hit it’s head under our house. Almost bold enough to make my feet leave the floor. I went under the house to investigate (heavily armed) and found nothing. The door to the crawl space was shut solid.

We never had a connection with that house. I often wonder if that house had wanted it that way.

When Dive started to falter in 2015/16 so did our finances. That giant pay cut I took started to catch up and my wife was let go from her job. Bills got hard as did our marriage. My little jeep wrangler got towed away a few times. Once when I was pulled over for failure to yield on Pleasantburg and our insurance hadn’t been paid. Cops took my jeep right out of Southern’s parking lot right before Saturday brunch. A couple more times from our driveway. The tow driver and I became familiar with each other. The last time my jeep was repo’d he knocked on the door so I could get my stuff out of the car. A few months later they took my wife’s Camry. We didn’t have the funds to get it back. The way your treated when you go into repo is embarrassing. They talk down to you like you’re shit. A few conversations almost landed me in jail.

Our account was so low from bank charges I was stranded in NC while hiking because I ran out of gas. Bank took our last bit of money from overdraft fees. Wife had to call and beg the bank to give some back.

We sold our spare bedroom furniture and some heirlooms to keep us in the house. My credit got destroyed. Our marriage almost did. There isn’t a day that goes by that I’m not thankful for my wife’s resolve during that time. It was all her that held us together those years. I was too busy trying to build a crumbling empire.

Financially things eventually got better as my company grew. Well at least until the germ arrived that is. I blocked the driveway during Covid. If one of our vehicles had been repo’d again you would’ve read my name in the news.

The house over the years fell apart like a few other things in our lives. Roof was leaking, our bathroom floor from the plumbing debacle the first year was slowly sagging into the ground. Wood rot around the windows. Insulation was terrible, man our utilities were outrageous. Every time it seemed we would get a break and fix a few issues ther restaurants had other plans.

During Covid I made an attempt to get a small equity loan to update but I was furloughed so the bank saw me as unemployed. Par for the course on Tindal rd.

After the first few months it never felt like home. Not our home. I do recall the family we bought it from seemed really excited to sign those closing docs.

My career was so charged with responsibilities and effort that I couldn’t welcome that house as my home as well. Its like we were fighting each other. Family meals eaten in that house were few and far between. I rarely have any afternoon memories there. Mornings were always dark and it was usually the same when I got home from work. Or I just don’t remember from all the drinking.

I will admit when I was furloughed during Covid I enjoyed being home with my family for the first real time. It almost felt like our house. Those warm fuzzies ended when my work partnership exploded. Then I went into a fine deep depression. I spent days blowing leaves in my yard, expressionless. Wind would scatter them and I’d go out and rake them into piles over and over. My watch would register 1500 plus calories from all the raking. I could feel my wife peeking through the broken blinds checking up on me. I wouldn’t take the leaves to the end of the yard after a while. I’d move them around. We had mountains of leaves sporadically around the house. I was toiling. Not working was literally driving me mad. I felt like the dad in Amityville Horror splitting logs all day.

One night while I was a bottle deep in vodka I created a Chadcuterie logo on my phone while I was feeling sorry for myself. I needed a way to make some cash until I could find my calling again. It was literally suppose to only last until after Christmas.

When I created Chadcuterie that late fall I turned our house into a slightly illegal commissary. Our kitchen was dedicated to meat and cheese storage. Bought a small dorm fridge to hold my stock and used our dining room table to host the building up of the boxes. The counter was always littered with folded boxes and dry goods. Kitchen covered in flour. I was making my own crackers at the time. Our oven door wouldn’t close all the way so I would lean a stool against the oven door to keep the gas heat in. We would have pickups in our driveway. On busy days I’d have to instruct everyone how to pull around in the yard. The lawn got destroyed during Christmas time. I had to hide our city garbage cans in the back when they would get filled with trash from all the fruit clamshells. If it got too heavy I’d dump my trash into Southern’s dumpster because well, fuck you.

On a whim we called one of those ridiculous “we will buy your house” signs in our neighborhood. After doing some simple math I stood to lose around 20% of our equity using one of these investors as opposed to me sinking up to 60k to fix it up. 60k that I did not have. 60k that the bank would not loan me.

I swallowed a little pride and after haggling for 3 months I said I do and we had 45 days to get the fuck out of dodge San Souci.

We hired a moving truck February 2021 and moved all of our shit over to a little rental house in N Main. I didn’t even look back the last time I took the last little load of boxes in my Tacoma. By this time I wanted to get away from that structure as possible.

It’s mostly my imagination that has caused my negative perception of that house. I realize that. I don’t physically blame the house. I became a different person during the 11 years we lived there. It was tumultuous, it was always hot or cold and never in between. My personality seemed to replicate that. I don’t think I ever had a good night’s sleep there.

A decade of discomfort and despair

There was just something about that place..

Taking some good from the bad there were good memories to be had there.

My child’s first words (kitty) and steps were in that home.

Me mockingly carrying my wife through the door when we came home from our wedding

Some fun Friendsgiving times

Sitting by campfires in the yard during Covid. Slowly feeling myself coming back to my family

Hanging our first family photos over the mantle

Look we did our best to turn this into our home.

It just wasn’t having it.

That house did something to my mind. I don’t put blame on it for any of our hardships it just seemed to encourage them.

It may sound like an over active imagination but I could feel myself slowly start to heal when we left.

It took a year at our new address for me to feel it. I have no doubt I’d still be drinking at Tindal. If I was still with my family and they didn’t kick me out. That house seemed dead set on fucking that too.

My reckoning wouldn’t have reckoned. I fully believe that. That house was a canker sore on my soul.

It’ll hold some memories true inspite of itself.

I am curious how the new family is doing there. Does the back bedroom speak to them like it did me?

I like this little place we live in now. It’s a third of the size. We all share a bathroom but we get to share many other things too. I’m home more. We all are. It’s a rental but it feels like home. Something I haven’t felt in years.

No more leaves to rake either.