Reno

Starting on a renovation of a house this old is not difficult for me; but, it's my first time doing it! The home was owned by a cantankerous old man who no one knew but also, no one liked. Somewhat like a hermit, he only came out once a week; on Saturday. He bought necessities to stay alive and only that. Nothing he bought was for personal hygiene; and it was evident by the odor he "dusted" the aisles with.

I was ready to enter a home that I knew would probably reek and contain all kinds offensive items so I turned the key slowly and purposefully. On the other side of this door was a new beginning for me caused by the apparent end of someone else.

As I entered I was taken aback! This was far from what I had expected! The interior was pristine. All that was evident was slight dust from the lack of a tenant. All the furniture was preserved as if in a museum and looked as if it was, in fact, museum quality. As I proceeded through each room it appeared as if nothing had been touched or moved out of place for decades until I reached the kitchen. There, the green and white porcelain stove was covered with pots filled with remains of what I would guess, his "last supper" prior to an untimely death. I say that mainly because some of it was on the floor, table and seat where he must have run out of time.

Well, my task was not to obsess on his demise, but to make money. I began the reconstruction of this home by emptying it's contents onto the driveway and putting a "Yard Sale" sign up because my turnover time would not give me room negotiate with an estate liquidator. My niece had agreed to a 10% commission, so I knew she would get top dollar for everything because she needed a car.

As I began emptying the second floor, I got to the owner's bedroom and it was not hard to find. It reminded me of Sheepshead Bay and the dump. Wow, what a way to reminisce about your childhood! As I got closer to the door, I could here what sounded like a fan. I guessed one of the police or coroner's employees were nice enough to open a window and place a fan in front of it. I wish they had it blowing the stink out and not circulating it though.

The room was depressing. It had all the markings of what I would think a serial killer would live like. Even the paintings on the wall were depressing; including a copy of Salvador Dali's St. John of the Cross.

But the bed was made. The clothes were hung in order. The books on the shelf were arranged perfectly; except for one. My OCD told me there was three quarters of an inch difference in the height of this small black book and the prior, instead of a half inch. It was not noticeable to anyone but someone as weird as I am.

I looked at it and noticed it was not bound like a real book but sewn like a doily. Please don't ask how I know that. As I was saying, the thread was waxed though and the leather cover more like deerskin than cattle and dyed pitch black. I removed it and the center fell out; as if it was not bound, but placed inside this covering. It hit with a thud as if weighted. I was surprised by this and stood staring at it for some odd reason. I guess I was expecting to read and now I'd have to unwrap this package.

The wrap of the internal contents was like muslin, but heavier. It came off like a mummies bandage and was rolled at least a dozen times. Inside was another leather cover that was actually surrounded what seemed to be metal plates. I was excited until I found blank pieces of metal inside.

Now, I was getting anxious. This was taking time out of my real purpose of being there and I wanted it to be over. One more internal plate and there was something! It looked like a bill. No, it was two. With my luck, it'll be two bucks. I succumbed to the depression of the room and resolved to the fact it was nothing until I saw the zeros and the gold. It was two absolutely pristine 1928 Gold $1000 dollar notes in thick glass. That glass was slightly cracked by me, but still not shattered at all.

My niece was upset by my sudden departure; but I had a friend who collected coins and I made it to his business front on 36th Street in record time.

With a small commission, he informed me those would sell immediately with my profit being $20,000.

When I returned to the house, my niece informed me that she would have a lot of trouble buying a car if she couldn't sell any of this "old crap". I immediately changed the sign to "ESTATE SALE" and within 5 hours she had made enough money for a new car and a high end stereo to put in it.

It took 11 weeks to renovate the house and I did not make a penny by the time I added my expenses to cover all costs; but I was still 2 grand to the good.