From the basement to the attic, there’s 30 windows in the house. For better or worse, most of them have been replaced a time or two along the way and every time the wind blows I can’t wait to replace them all again. That is with one exception… in the dinning room there’s a monster of a double hung window that’s original to the 1917 final construction of the house. Its single pane construction screams inefficiency by today’s standards and it no longer operates – I’m partially responsible for that. It was already stuck when we moved in, but one of the first true fall days we had in the house we noticed while the wind was scattering the leaves outside it was also fluttering the curtains inside. So instead of trying to free the stuck sash, I grabbed a couple tubes of silicon and sealed the sash to the frame. So now it doesn’t leak, but it also doesn’t open.

So what’s the hang-up with just replacing the window? Simple. The top sash. It’s one of the first things everyone notices walking into the dining room. And on bitter cold nights like last week, it’s frosty appearance is even more striking. Though very common in its day 100 year ago, the leaded glass in the top sash is now a sought after decorative antique. (The DW and I were in a restaurant with friends over the holidays that had the exact same sash hanging over the bar.) In the right market, the top sash alone would pay for a decent replacement window. But in its current place, it adds character to the house that would be difficult to replace without paying dearly for a modern custom window made to imitate the look.

At the end of the day, I guess it comes down to what’s appealing to the eye versus what’s appealing to the heating bill. Which way will we go? I actually have a compromise in mind, though acting on it is still a few years off. Now, if it were only so simple with all of the doors.