When I bought and sold a house earlier this summer, I was secretly afraid that come move-in day, I’d fall hard into a bout of pandemic boredom.

No more downsizing and donating and packing. No more parades of workmen here and there. No more sanitizing and schlepping my way from one house to the next. 

Little did I know that the real excitement was yet to come, when I attempted to impose myself – only the third owner in 70 years – on a house that seemed none too happy with my arrival and eager to show who was boss.