Gotta be bogus. Somebody been vacuuming the floors and cleaning the windows and shit. not "untouched", just retro decor.
There have been a lot of things done. The doorbell, that was added in. I noticed a Nutone speaker, a kind of a home intercom system, the doorbell was incorported in that system. It probably doesn't work anymore, probably for for thirty years. That also means the master was competely redone. The control system for the Nutone would have been there, in the wall.
Bathroom had those rails installed and the shower head, probably elderly owners, now passed away, kids either selling the house, or using the property. Bath sure isn't from the seventies, not the cabinets anyway. The dude is just getting carried away.
Honestly, it looks like the home of some neglected elderly couple, probably with one that was around a while alone. They were keeping up the house, probably well into the 21st century. Then they just couldn't do it anymore. It was sad.
Dad built the house that Mom still lives in in 1975. $48,000. I was 13. And I got to give it to him, maybe he knew he would be constantly updating. That house was designed by the entire family, well except for brother, he was 4. But if may very well have made a contribution.
Everything from the lighting to the carpet and walls. My sister and I got to pick out everything in our rooms. Mine had shag carpet, tri-colored, red,white, and blue. Walls were painted a neutral kind of light brown, light fixture was red, white, and blue, had stars and stripes on it. I moved in my original bedroom suite, maple, bunkbeds that we split, the room was big enough. Dresser, corner desk, two other dressers with bookcases over all of them, and yes, with nothing but books.
The house was so damn 70's. Green kitchen, of course. Some kind of funky orange, sculpted carpet as in the video, in the den. Linoleum, in the kitchen and the baths, carpet everywhere else, not a hardwood floor cover in the house. But, paneling in the den for sure, LOL. Yes, Wallpaper in the bathrooms, I seem to remember in the master, which only had a shower, big ass red roses. Mom was in charge of the bathrooms.
But Dad, he let us have had it. Card Blanche, he had his things. Mapping out the landscaping on two acres, with a damn acre of a flippin garden he makes me carve out of red-clay pasture with a hand tiller. He laughed about that till the day he died. His home intercom system, and his fireplace.
He had a built in heatalator, at least that is what he called it. I could flip a switch on the wall and fans will pull in air and run it through the fireplace, blow it out of vents above the fireplace. He loved that thing. Dammit. Starting early summer, every damn Saturday, or at least it seemed that way, up at the crack of dawn, heading to grandmothers, going to cut some damn firewood.
It was that way all the way through winter. Damn did I love spring, dropping seeds is a hell of a lot easier than swinging a damn go-devil when you weigh 90 pounds soaking wet and have to run around in the shower to get wet. I remember one time, temperature was under 20 degrees, it was fawking freezing. He cut down a big white oak, claimed he was culling, and probably so.
He cut down the trees, then he delimbs them, I have to cart those limbs off, throw them in the burn pile while he cuts up the tree, trunk, and limbs. The limbs he does manage to use as firewood, I don't worry about. I got to get the trunk, turn the sections he cuts up, and split them. We gather them later. I just stand, and split. But this cold ass morning, when I come down on that first white oak the damn go-devil about takes my head off as it bounces right back at me. Dad laughs. Oh, it is froze to hard to split. WTF, why did you have me do that? Won't be the only time Dad uses freezing weather to teach me a life lesson.
But sorry, I know I am digressing. But, damn, that flippin heatilator. First couple of years I can remember seeing the thermometer on the "weather station" by the deck, outside and inside temperature. Outside, 25. Inside, 102. Dad laughing his ass off in his recliner, me scratching my head. Peanuts roasting in the fireplace, I shit you not.
And thank everyone for indulging. If you made it this far, thank you. But Dad, his heatilator, the firewood cutting, the damn tiller that dragging me around like a ninety pound woman walking a 150 pound Saint Bernard. He made me, he raised me, he done damn fawking good.
So, years pass by, I grow up, he retires, and his parents waltz into the last stage of life. He calls me, he asks for my help, something I don't know if he ever did before. And he really wasn't asking for my help, he was asking for my army, well half of it anyway. What he called my army was my six kids, and yes, they are a formidable force. But he just needed myself and my three teenage sons. And yes, they were beasts.
Grandpaw needs firewood to heat his house through the winter. So Dad gets out the David Brown, a tractor, made by Aston Martin, LOL. He takes down the trees, his brother hooks the tree to the tractor and drags in it the field. Dad delimbs the tree, my half army attacks, clears off the brush. Except for my middle one. He really is a beast, benching well over 300 pounds. All of them are quick as cats. And Dad is doing his thing, cutting the trunk in sections. Except this time, I got Hercules standing them up for me. I am doing nothing, absolutely nothing, but swinging that go-devil. And the army, they wait for the order, stand it up, I hit it again, or get it out of here.
And Dad, he is working hard. He finally finish up the real work, the chainsaw work, and goes, what's left. "Let's go home Dad, we did good". Within the first hour, Dad was doing the preliminary work, Myself and my army were doing the rest, and my uncle, and his two sons, they were merely driving the shit to Grandpaws, a couple miles away. A few years later, Grandpaw passed away. Three years after that, Grandmaw passed away. They never needed firewood again. Dad was looking for one year, my army gave him five. Don't tell me he didn't raise me right.
We used to have the brown fridge 
