I'm writing this while an ant crawls across my arm, because the house can't keep the bugs out. That's the review in one sentence.Good bones, but not kept up. It has the energy of a place the owners use twice a year and rent on the side — you're less a guest than a favor from your in-laws' cousin's uncle. Built in the '80s, left there ever since. Exterior paint was due 5–10 years ago. Carpet's original to the Clinton administration. Faucet knobs fall off; a couple toilets treat flushing as optional. A double oven juts two inches out of a too-small cutout, dust baked inside — closer to fire hazard than quirk.No central air, so pick your climate: 67 first floor, 74 second, 80 up top. Windows are lovely and screen-free, so cooling off invites moths, mosquitoes, and — see above — ants. Game room photographs well, but the PS4, Switch, and audio gear are all dead. Mattresses stiff enough we played musical rooms. The indoor hot tub reads less like an amenity than an '80s burden nobody's cost-justified removing.To be fair: check-in was effortless, and I'm grateful this place was available on a last-minute change when our group grew. Everything essential worked, neighbors are quiet and respectful, and we had a great weekend. Crested Butte did its part.The tell: one of the few places open late in prime season. Now I know why.