A House Fit for a King (Estate sale at a 1940 Tudor riverfront house)

Good morning!

Hope you all are staying warm wherever you're reading this, as it is positively glacial in Nashville, Tennessee! It's been a great long weekend for me-- I took Friday off to visit friends in Memphis, who showed us the BEST goldurn time the 901 had to offer. However! As I was going to miss a whole weekend worth of estate sales, I managed to squeeze in two just before I left Davidson County. One was a little forties' house off of Nolensville Road, chockablock with vintage clothes that were all about a size two (darn that dream), and the other....well, the other was this one.

(("Theme from Tara" here))

I had my mind made up to skip both sales in the interest of travel time, before my mom called me the night before. The conversation went something like this:

She: What time are you leaving tomorrow?

Me: Early-ish.

She: Like after eight?

Me: Definitely after eight.

She: You're gonna to want to see this one house before you go out of town.

Me: I am?

She: Uh, yeah, I'm pretty sure you will.

Me: Where is it?

She: It's in Madison down by the river.

Madison? Down by the river? I scoffed. While I spent many of my formative years in this suburb of Nashville, lo-o-o-ong before the East side became popular, the idea of crossing over to "the wrong" side of Gallatin Road in Madison did not hold much appeal. Behind the commercial district is a labyrinth of sixties' and seventies' apartment complexes and houses on streets with weird fairytale names like Peter Pan Road and Cinderella Drive. It's almost like the subdivision people were trying to add insult to injury-- here, live in this shoebox of a fifties' house on a street you don't even want to print on a Christmas card. "You live WHERE?" This house had a nondescript, Perrault-less address, just beyond the apartments, and on a dead end street, the property line terminating in the Cumberland River. "Wouldn't hurt," I thought, and after appealing to Matthew's better nature ("Do you want to go? Well, I guess we'd better go then!" quoted my favorite partner in crime), we drove up past a pair of wrought iron gates and were already pretty impressed.

And that was before we went inside. Whoooo boy. Fasten your seatbelts.

Now, being a dyed-in-wool estate saler, I have been to a LOT of houses over the last ten years. Small houses, big houses....million dollar addresses in Franklin and musty four square Victorians in Belmont, cottages in Old Hickory and once a penthouse condo in Bellevue on the twenty third floor (though the elevator button was haughtily labelled simply "P"...didn't I get a kick out of pressing it, like I was on my way up to Franchot Tone's 1930's abode!). AND YET, I don't know that I have ever been so surprised by a house in all my estate saling days. It went on, and ON , and on, and each room was just as elaborate and extravagant as the last.

Remember how I want to live exactly as say our-Joan-Crawford-who-art-in-heaven did in 1936? Um, this is the house I would need to execute that dream to the fullest extent of the law (barring time travel and/or a six million dollar time capsule style house in Holmby Hills). Get Matthew an ascot and a pipe, let me slip into something bias cut, put some Fletcher Henderson on the phonograph, and LET ME DREAM. I can't even describe this next picture to you without bursting into tears, so just look:

THE SCONCES.

((Anguished cry)) IS NOT EXACTLY AS I DESCRIBED IT? I would axe the giraffe and replace the couch with something boxier, but are you seeing the lighted chandelier style wall sconces? The high, dark overhead beams and the dark windows leading out to the patio? The dadblamed arches? Judas wept. Let's take a closer look at the back wall there:

Yep, still perfect. Davidson County Webpro data (my go-to site for finding out about other-people's-houses) dates the building to 1940. I love thinking of the swellegant people who would have lived here at the time and what their furniture must have looked like. Even these latter day tenants were kind to the house, putting a kind of Hollywood Regency spin on the interiors. While, owing to the many treasures from the Orient and wild exotic fabrics in the basement rooms and an addition, this one estate sale attendee in track pants kept breathing, "Musta been some kinda foreign people lived here. Nobody from around here would have stuff like this...", he was actually dead wrong-- the folks who lived here for several decades were actually from a tiny rural town north of Hendersonville and (from what I could find) lived in middle Tennessee all of their lives! You don't have to have a dramatic lineage or origin story to have dramatic flair (see: yours truly). The woman of the house ran a relatively famous nightclub in the Madison area for many years-- and if the house is anything to judge its owners by, she and her husband had a lot of vim and vigor to them!

Missing: threadbare Persian rug, movie screen that is hidden behind a tapestry....me.

This is one of enclosed patios with a full-fledged view of the Cumberland. My dad mentioned while we were gossiping about how impressive the place was that a) that was a million dollar view of the river and b) the people who lived here must have loved to entertain, as there were probably forty chairs in ten or twelve different seating areas complete with wet and dry bars! Again, I want to be this person.

This room actually made me suck air through my teeth. OH. MY. GOD. It looks like something from one of those David Hicks books on interior design, maybe Decorating with Fabrics? Because that's exactly what's going on here-- the walls are the same fabric as the drapes, as the settee, as the accent pillows:

Perfect.

Something about the wood tones and the white, white ceiling with all this pattern is so jaw-droppingly gorgeous...at one point looking around, Matthew, impressed, stage whispered, "I wonder what they're asking for this place?" I guess he was given hope by the down-at-the-heels neighborhood that we'd been through to get to the riverside mansion area. That and my sweet Bub has no idea how much houses cost. Already having looked it up on my phone out of curiosity, I balefully rejoined, "Wellllll, it's $550,000, and it's already under contract," ((cue me singing "I Can't Live" by Harry Nilsson while performing a sorrowful supercut of all the wonderful times I would have had in this house)). Oh, it's cool. That's just like, over twice our reach price. In for a penny, in for a pound, right? I'm still staying out of the real estate market this year, but good God, why can't I live here.

Here in the bedroom, I once again stifled a gasp. Ok, those ruched curtains, that brocade wallpaper, MORE CHANDELIERS, and a quad-fold baroque mirror in front of a dainty little settee.

Which leads us up to the main focus of the boudoir. Um, excuse me, while I start listing all my furniture on Craigslist in the vain hope that I can redo my entire room to look like this. UUUUGH. Do you see...I mean, where do I even start? Crystal-roped headboard thing, sconce above the bed thing, and those tall, thin mirrors? The little bombe chest/nightstands? My tears fell like rain (not really, I'm super brave, but this was A TRIAL) :

I've packed my bags, I'm #ready2livehere.

My mom really didn't like the kitchen but I thought it was charming. Plus, who besides me do you think can reach those toppermost shelves with only a little help? I'm not sure what color I would paint them but some color, or maybe a less oatmeal, more white shade? If you thought you were impressed with the wallpaper reaching to the ceiling, in the words of Al Jolson, you ain't seen nothin' yet:

See, I could hide Christmas presents in the higher up cabinets. I hope our
kids are smaller like Matthew so I can retain my vertical advantage...

BAM. This room is fully committed to that wallpaper and it's so wingding it works! Update the appliances, lend me a couple hundred thousand dollars, and I am ready to move in!

Again, if this were my house, I would lay Spanish tile in this room and have it be the ballroom. A bantam sized one, sure, but how swank would it be to throw parties and instruct guests to "follow me into the ballroom for dancing and light refreshments." And with a house like this, it wouldn't look one jot out of place. Pappy kept mentioning Sunset Boulevard in his descriptions of this house and he's not wrong-- what an old world charm and new world verve the place must have had in 1940...and still has some almost 80 years later!

Have castanets, will travel.

One of like eight places you could eat dinner...again, a house after my own heart.

There were plenty of rooms in the bottom of the house where the basement was finished and a catacomb of bedrooms and sitting rooms and an office set up, along with a newer addition, but the top floor of the house was really the heart of the house. And was it ever still beating. I hope the new owners have a lot of happy years in these to die for rooms!

Want to see what I got at this sale (or that matter, things I've been hoarding up since the last)? I'll do a swag post soon! In the meantime, here I am via the She Was a Bird Instagram in one of the lady-of-the-house's many out of this world accessories, a hubcap sized vintage [Incan? Aztec? Meso-American?] pendant, which I am loathe to take off for how much I love it:

I both looked and felt that tired after a day at work, but I can't
resist a selfie!

                   

Anyway, let me leave you with Fats Domino telling you how I feel about this house! I hope you're having a wonderful 2015! Any crazy estate sale finds? If you're a Nashvillite, did you go to this one? Have you ever been to a sale that you stepped back and went, "OH WHY do I not live here?!" Which room in this house is your favorite? Tell me all about it!! I'll be back before you know it with more vintage tips and quips. Stay warm!! We'll talk soon. :)

                 

House Huntin': First Cut is the Deepest Edition (1960's Time Capsule Split Level)

Good morning! 

How's tricks, kids? It's raining like crazy here in downtown Nashville, but I've braved the storm and made it to the library to kick off yet another week of clacketa-clacketa reportage for you from the vintage-loving mines. Today, I share with you a story of heartache if not heartbreak... the first house we looked at in person as possible home-buyers! Did you even know we're in the market? We weren't, but while daydreaming through MLS listings, I came across something that seemed like it might be a dream come true. 

Take a look at this hunk of burning love:

Seriously, when they talk about curb appeal on those trashy HGTV shows I compulsively watch in the waiting rooms of doctor's offices, this is what they're talking about. I actually can't stand how much I love the outside of this house, and when my dad and I rolled up on it Saturday morning a few weekends ago, it was just as knock-your-eye-out in person. We were on the way to estate sales and diverted our course to include me driving by "this house I saw last night on Zillow". One day on the market, and there was a couple with a toddler in the driveway trying to peer in the front window, and several other cars driving by as we sat in mine and eyeballed the place over. This is apparently what happens when houses under $200,000 and in the Nashville area pop up nowadays-- feeding frenzy!

"What about the inside, Lisa?" WHAT ABOUT THE INSIDE. IT WAS JUST AS PERFECT. I expected the Dick Van Dyke-ish ness of the outside to clash horrifically with misguided "updates" and ripped out appliances, but I was wrong, bub! So delightfully wrong. Here are photos from the listing:

Did you just die a little? After our initial father-daughter reconnaissance, I called Matthew and asked him to call the realtor, who showed us the house bright and early Sunday morning. Once again, the photos were spot on. The house smelled a little damp/moldy, which set my outsized olfactory organs into high dudgeon, but as you may recall from my years of estate sale training, mild weird smells have never kept me from the-things-I-want-in-life (which are usually old and musty smelling by definition). The open-ish living room floor plan led into the formal dining room which led into the kitchen, and oh, this? Just a fireplace begging to be hung with one of those starbust electric clocks from the time period. How badly did I want to oblige it!!

Can you just see the visions of all my kooky mid century stuff in this room dancing through my head? If I were a paper doll, this would be the setting on the back of the envelope where you could picture me in all my sixties' splendor. It was seriously wonderful. Remember how the split level was the worst card to get in the game of Life? THIS kind of a split level is beyond desirable to me. How chic would you look descending the stairs into your gracious living room to greet your dinner guests in a hostess gown and your best welcoming smile? I get butterflies like a teenager thinking about that scenario, bless my poor vain, superficial, vintage little heart. It can't be helped!

Up these three stairs was a skinny hallway with three bedrooms and a blue-tiled bathroom. One bedroom was good sized, another was medium, and a third would really have to be an office or a den, it was surprisingly small. The bathroom had a door that led into the bedroom, but as it was also the only bathroom for the first floor, it also had a door that led into the hallway. Strange? I would have rather had just a long wall there and the single entrance for a bathroom. But wait 'til you see the bathroom:

Amirite? Serving Donna Reed realness here, hunties. And the commode, which has been decorously left out of this photo, was also periwinkle blue. I would paint the taupe above the tile white and let this room shine, shine, shine, let it shine. Grab some matching towels with our monograms on them, to wipe away the tears of joy from my eyes, and this room is done!

Ready for the kicker? How much do we hate unfinished basements? THIS MUCH. Happily, this is the least unfinished basement of all:

Seriously, the linoleum makes it look like a king's own palace. And the support beams don't even bother me. AND ANOTHER BEAUTIFUL FIREPLACE. Heartwrenching. There's a laundry room and another bathroom off to the right of the photo there, the first of which looks like this:

Kind of strange, huh? I guess you could put a chest of drawers or some other storage over to the right there, but I'm puzzled at the half-bath being in an enormous, whole-bath sized room. That said, the more beautiful vintage tile, the better.

The back of the house had a full deck, and even ran on into a patio type thing over the concrete garage that was also accessible by a door in the master suite:

This doesn't look like much in the photo, but it was really neat, and as spring had just sprung in the first week of April, there were buzzing bumble bees and the fragrance of the hyacinth wafting towards us. Matthew was not into the bees, but I was so enchanted by the foliage I couldn't really mind them.

So! Why are you not talking to the proud new owner of an honest-to-goodness gem of a vintage house? Let's look at the facts:

Pro's

• In our price range, but right at the tippy-top of it.
• LOOKS LIKE A SET FROM SOME CBS SHOW IN THE KENNEDY ERA.
• Has been maintained in a way that keeps the 1960-details I like but also isn't in a falling-down state of disrepair (as you see in a lot of houses that "must have been something back in the day" but are so neglected you'd have to take everything out just to make it livable).
• I LOVE TO THINK OF LIVING IN THIS HOUSE OH MY DAMN WHERE DO WE SIGN.

Con's

• I am too tall for the basement.
• Right at the top of our price range.
• What is with the bathrooms (dual entrance on the first floor, Volkswagen's-worth of empty space in the basement)?
• Location is not good. Weird, transient area in between airport and downtown.
• Due to shark-like intensity of other buyers, would have to put in an offer the same day at full asking price to be in the running for the house.

Let's address the con's, as the pro's are blatantly obvious here:

Height:

This is me in the basement:

And this is Bub in the basement. Matthew is around 5'6'' 5'7'' and three-eighths and an inveterate sloucher. Notice how he has plenty of head clearance between ceiling/ceiling fan, and the top of his dear head, even with his out of control hair. I, on the other hand, at five foot eleven and three quarter inches... I felt like I was a little leery of the space when I was in the house, but looking at the photos afterwards, it is painfully obvious that I would probably feel like I was "ducking" the entire time in over half the house. Boo. And if I was in heels? Or a beehive? And if I have kids that are taller than me? Forget it. As lovely as this room is, it ain't made for us amazons, and a house should be a home for even the taller members of the family!

Location:

When I look at a map of Nashville and go "Where is that at, exactly?", you know it's in a weird part of town. Between my dad and I, we have a combined fifty years worth of driving experience in the Metro Nashville area, and we've spent the last 10 going to estate sales every. single. weekend. Do you have any idea how many neighborhoods we've been in? Off hand, I would say all of them. So when this location popped up off of Murfreesboro Pike, I had to do some head scratching. It's almost to the part of that long, long stretch of street where it goes residential, but in a strange pocket behind a vacant Church of Christ and a Pizza Hut. Nearest grocery? There was a Kroger's within walking distance, but it was downgraded a few years ago to a Dollar General Market. I hate to be a grocery snob-- obviously, I'm not, as the grocery store I'm pining for  is like the rock bottom of regular grocery stores, but I don't trust sub-Krogers standard grocers, and that's that. Seriously, if I can't get US Weekly and my low carb tortillas without driving all the way into town and over to the Berry Hill Kroger's, that's a problem. Also, the only thing on this part of Murfreesboro Pike are transient hotels (Rodeway Inn, et al), night clubs (this one appears to be in a former Captain D's...what?), and fast food joints...I'm not asking for this to be the Champs-Élysées, but worse than my beloved Gallatin Road and a little better than Dickerson Road is not gonna work for me. The place I am now, in between the two aforementioned streets, I feel comfortable even if it isn't my dream house. It didn't make good sense to move somewhere I would know nothing about and feel less comfortable in. Location was really the biggest thing. If this house was in a similar suburb in Madison, Donelson, Hermitage, Old Hickory, I would have pulled whatever strings I needed to get in the ring on this one, but it wasn't, and that was a hard pill to swallow.

Pressure

The agent called the agent selling the house, and even though the house had been on the market TWO DAYS, he'd already received a couple offers and showed the house fourteen times, not counting us. Talk about blood in the water, people. The agent showing us the house said to have a strong offer, we would have to put one in THAT AFTERNOON and right at asking price. What! If you all know me at all, you should be aware of the fact that I don't do practically anything "on the spot"....my little Depression-era brain needs time to formulate a convincing, unshakable argument that we're not getting "rooked" or in for something more than we bargained, and an hour was not enough time for me to make up my mind on something as big as a house payment that would stretch on into the next 15 years of my life. Now, if it had been in a better neighborhood or at least one I knew, that would have been different-- but the fear of the unknown was too much for me. Plus, we're gonna have grandbabies in the next year or two that need dropping off and visiting at their respective grandparents' houses in Madison, Hendersonville, and Gallatin...um, ain't driving halfway across the county to make that happen, and that's important to us. Mark this down as TIMES I HATE BEING A GROWN UP. Ugh, why couldn't I just throw caution to the wind! I am going to my miss my house.

After several Bay-of-Pigs like intensity level conversations with my mom, my dad, and Matthew, we decided to pass. Even though I did listing-stalk this house for the rest of the month, it looks to have gone off the market this last weekend, and I hope whoever ended up being the buyer makes a wonderful life for themselves in this house...it's so gosh darn gorgeous! I wish it could have been the right one for me, but I do hope something like this, except even better or even more convenient to what we need in a house, pops up again some day soon! Keep your fingers crossed for me; I'm gonna keep looking! :)

           

How about you? How did you find your first house? Or are you looking? What were some deal breakers or makers in your house hunt? What's the latest and greatest time-capsule like place you've seen? Advice for getting over house-heartbreak? Let's talk!

That's all for today...try not to get blown away in the storms, fellow Nashvillians, and I'll see you tomorrow with some of the goods I scored at the flea market! Have a great Monday, and we'll talk then. Take care!

Real Talk: Real Estate Horror Photos Edition (Or: "You Don't Want To Sell This House, DO You?")

Good afternoon!

It's Monday! WE LIVED. Whatever the opposite of my Thursday state of mind was, I think I'm in it-- my morning has been like this long slog through book paging slips, paperwork, and minor irritations. I have no photos of the things I did this weekend, either! What kind of a blogger am I? I've been watching 48 Hours Mysteries and repairing books to limit my human interaction in this volatile condition I'm in, but lunch time is here, so why not enjoy some FREAKING INSANE houses I've seen in the midst of my house hunting? Maybe a little haterade and this tofu/brown rice dish will bring my spirits back up. 

Disclaimer: I am not technically looking for a house right now--mainly because I haven't seen anything that meets all the criteria: turns my head, pre-1970, on this side of town, and not astronomically out of my price range (bonus for sixties' wallpaper mural in dining room or pink and black tile bathroom). But as a red blooded American girl of a certain age, I am also always looking for a house. In the next year or two, we're definitely going to be in the market, so practice isn't necessarily a bad thing. And who's to say a prince of showplace mightn't show up while I'm just nosing around?  I collected these photos while sifting through Zillow listings  in the last few months just in case some perfect mid-century ranch pokes its head up from the waters long enough for me to long-net it. THEY'RE SO BAD. 

How bad? Take a look yourself.

1) The Crime Scene House

This house showed up because I forgot to set my parameters to something with a minimum of $100,000. In Metro-Nashville, if it's a full-fledged, two or more bedroom house and under that price, something is usually desperately wrong with it. Me: "Oh, look, this Victorian fixer upper on Cahal is only $100,000! Wait..it doesn't have a roof. Or a floor. Because of the fire." ((stony glare at computer monitor)) I know house hunting isn't exactly a "bargain" market, but you know I'm still trying, even in my hypothetical searching, to find gold dust in the rough at fool's gold prices. This house was $59,000, a price that makes you go, "Hold up, I might not actually have to take out a million year mortgage to be a homeowner? You mean I could live in my own home for that much?" Drawback-- the house was in a pretty dicey neighborhood in north Nashville. But seeing the cheerful little exterior that might just need a weedwacker and a couple cans of paint to make it liveable, I clicked forward in good faith. The progression went exactly like this:

"Cool, so it looks like it was somebody's grandma's house! Nice fireplace, and look at the interior door there! The paneling...not so good, but we can work with this!"

((click))

"Aw, neat, so there's a piano there, too! You know, I hear all the time about people who move into a house and there's still a piano from the previous owner, wouldn't that be great to just inherit a piano? The main thing that's been keeping me from that all these years is having to move one, and it would already just be--"

((click))

"Uhhh...ok, so this is a little more cluttered than I thought it would be, and it's weird to have an electrical panel right there in your dining room, but it could be worked with, right? Clear that mess out...put down some crazy cheerful linoleum floor...paint the door...still not terrible! The people were probably still in the process of cleaning out grandma's house when the realtor came to take the photos."

((click))

Cue the sound of a dream that has died. "Is Grandma still in there somewhere?" Note that the drawers are missing from the dresser, and everything generally looks "shook down" in the worst way. Hear the tiniest voice of non-reason in my head going, "Hey, free art deco furniture...and hardwood floors...?" and watch me click through to the last  picture, where I will see....

Whatever is happening in this kitchen. Nice work on the ad hoc, cooking pan wall between the stove and the counter. What purpose does this even serve? I feel sad that the house was allowed to be neglected for this long, but way sadder that someone went "No, no need to straighten up for the real estate photos, it'll be fine" and inadvertantly gave me this weird glimpse into how-somebody-lived. I usually am able to at least imagine what the place would look like fixed up, but this one is a head scratcher.

You want more?

2) The Hoarder House

I can't remember what neighborhood this house is in, but realize that all the houses I'm showing you in this batch are no longer on the market. Why, because someone realized they needed to get the joint together before bringing in prospective home owners? No, because they're S-O-L-D. Again, I don't know if to redevelopers, flippers, house-tearer-downers, but this seems impossible to me. About this one, though, how great is the stone work on the outside of the house? Sure, it's got a Grey Gardens vibe going on from the exterior pictures, but maybe things improve when you take it inside!

Orrrr....not.

What surprised me about this house is that it's not Hoarders-level, even if the person who lived in the house might have had issues with hoarding. That up above? That would take me maybe like an eight hour day to get looking like somebody's home they actually live in. The thing that worries me about these photos is maybe somebody already did that much work and this is what it looks like AFTER they exhausted an attempt to get the place together.

The optimist in me goes, "Oooh, look at those door ways." The rest of me goes, "NO. NO. NO. NO. NO."

Luckily, these kitchen and bathroom photos are blurry. Don't even want to speculate on what's going on in that fridge. Another hypothesis about the house-- maybe it's a house someone lived in for awhile, left in an extreme state of disarray, and then sat empty (relatively speaking) for a few years before it was finally put up for sale. I've been to maybe two dozen estate sales where it was obvious that the house was legally kept in the family, but not maintained since the last person (someone's elderly relative, etc) moved into some kind of elder care situation, because we can't sell Aunt So-and-So's house...even if she won't ever return to it as such. Do you ever wonder how many houses in your neighborhood are just sitting empty? Or sitting with-all-the-furniture but no actual tenant?

And then there's....

3) The Do Not Enter/ Silent Hill House

Last but not least, this house wasn't nearly as terrible as the two I've just shown you, but there was something decidedly spooky about the photos. Is this just how an empty house looks, kind of lonely and foreboding? Realtors talk about "staging" a house (imagine Annette Benning in American Beauty, trying to make the house look as "marketable" as possible), and good gracious, this one could use a pole lamp, a chair, even a chevron rug-- something! Anything!-- to make it look a less like "the forbidden zone".

Look at this picture:

It would be reasonable for me to be going "Oh, nice closet! Knotty pine paneling!" Instead, a little fearful thought is quailing from it in my subconscious. "Whaaaat's.... beeeehind....the doooor....Liiiiisssaaa..." I should have never been allowed to read Stephen King and seventies' horror comics at a young, impressionable age...but then maybe I wouldn't be the person I am today!

It's not me, dude, it's THE ROOM in this case:

Don't they remind you of those "escape the [insert horrifying location here]" point and click games? In college, I used to freak myself the frank out clicking on a bathroom mirror in a flash game like that where suddenly a skull or a bloody handprint would appear. At least this picture was taken in broad daylight!

Pop quiz: WHERE. DOES. THAT. LADDER. GO.

a) Attic storage, silly! There's probably a bunch of asbestos shingles and old coat hangers up there. Go look and see if they left anything good.
b) The last known whereabouts of the people who disappeared from this house exactly a year ago...under mysterious circumstances.
c) Ghost City, USA; population: YOU.
d) ALL OF THE ABOVE.

David Lynch would get a kick out of these interiors. Just add some industrial noise, slow panning cameras, and a closeup of a cigarette's ash.

Anyway! I can't lie, that kick to my blood sugar levels and my hate train refueling made me feel a little better! What about you? Which of these houses oogs you out the worst? Can you imagine a terrifying old time radio show set in one of these locales? What's the weirdest home listing you've ever seen? Let's talk.

I gotta get back to work, but have a fabulous Monday, and I'll see you tomorrow (in a better mood, I hope)! Til then.