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I drive out to this second place, and John meets me there as promised. He's still talking fast, giving me the sales pitch, on how he just had the house painted (does he think I'm blind?), and how I'd better make an offer, because this kind of deal won't last long. Uh-huh.

It's a mess; there's no doubt of that. It has obviously not been lived in for some time. But I can see that it's a solidly built house, not as cobbled together as the one in Oliver. Foundation looks sound; the basic structure is solid, and the wood floor downstairs is black with decades of dirt, but I'm already seeing how nice it will look sanded and freshly varnished. But, on the other hand, broken plaster all over, doors completely missing, drafty and decrepit windows and doors, no plumbing at all, probably no insulation, the wiring is extremely old and primitive, etc., etc. It would be a real top to bottom project, alright.

John is busily apologizing for the old junk still lying about in every room; he'll have that all cleaned out, don't worry about it.

"No," I reply, "please leave everything as is. If I buy this place, I'll want to sort through all this stuff myself." I'm thinking a hidden treasure or two amidst all the forsaken junk, even treasure that only I would value, that other folks would throw away. John shrugs.

We go back outside. Four outbuildings, plus a ramshackle privy. The building nearest the house is literally a small tarpaper shack. I look inside, and see an old hand-operated water pump. Cool.

"And I'll have that old shed bulldozed, too," John declares.

"What?" I cry, "Why would anyone want to bulldoze the pump house? I, for one, wouldn't want to buy this place if you got rid of that!" John shrugs again.

Despite John, I'm liking this place. I tell John so, but that I'll have to look into whether his asking price (upper 30's) is something I can handle. I'm trying to buy time. I need to think about this.