Family versus house

About two years ago, my husband and I acquired a stucturally sound but dated 1940's home. We had a swell plan to live in one part while remodeling the other. Assuming it was an inanimate object, we did not take the house's opinons into consideration. The house did not want us to live there.

Before our first move-in attempt, I peeled away some wallpaper and found that the wall underneath it was missing. Termites.

During another attempt, the furnace died. In January. Being ecologically minded, we had intended to replace that ancient, energy-consuming monster anyway. But our plan had been to undergo the project in the summer, when we would not need heat. House said, "Hah!"

Since those early attempts, we have managed to take up residence at the House. However, our budget for contractors has been depleted and we are continuing the remodeling effort ourselves. My husband is the master carpenter, plumber and electrician and I am the dim-witted assistant. My wonderful family has taken pity on us and devotes one evening per month to helping us, too. My kids serve mainly as the testing crew, experimenting with things until they break them or injure themselves. They are also good at redecorating freshly painted walls with markers. House continues to reject us as residents, breaking something in protest on a regular basis.