The best part about living in a Century Home (aside from the large windows, antique woodwork and deliciously creaky stairs,) is the fact that the edifice has had 100 years to settle upon its foundations. This means that there is a distinct lack of potentially creepy house-noises that remain to be made. Of course, the other side of this coin is that when noises do happen they're about three times creepier than they should be. It's a bit of a trade-off.
Another good thing is the knowledge that (and this is especially useful when watching particularly dark storm clouds rolling in,) the house has seen more (and worse) weather than one has and has continued to stand through it all. This is a comforting thought to think when one is returing from a weekend abroad and hoping that one will find the house and not a smoking house-shaped hole where it once stood. So far, so good.
And one can't help but wonder what the house would say (if it could speak in a conventional sense,) about all the vintage fixtures and renovations that one is inflicting upon it. Is it enjoying this return to the 1930s around its kitchen and bathrooms or is it saying "Oh no, not one of those again!" Does it even matter if it is? When one loves one's house the house can tell. One is sure of it.
Today I am sure of one thing: if the buds on my lemon tree don't burst soon, I'm going to.