What Jenny says is really true: in every romance novel, it’s really all about the house. Today for me, it’s really all about the house.
For some time I’ve had house envy. I want more space, more privacy. I want to be able to have my family visit for holidays, and eat at my house. I want to have parties that don’t have to spill out into the hallway or require people to squeeze out into the backyard through the narrow gap between my bookcase and my dresser. I want to be able to park on my street every day instead of searching and circling. I want a fireplace, working or non, and Susie Happy Windows. I want sun.
Figuring that I’m never going to be ready, and that there never is a right time, I just started looking. Craig’s List had a possibility that was a non-starter with an owner who’s hard to get hold of and a location in the wrong neighborhood. But George and Paul have a good friend who’s a realtor, and knew of a house around the corner for sale, and one thing led to another. And I looked in five houses today.
And I’m not falling in love with the late Victorian that needs a bunch of work but has so many of my dream elements. No, I’m not. Not at all. Well, hardly ever.
It’s the kind of place I want to live in for decades and save up money for projects as they come along - stripping the first floor of what ever plastic-y stuff is covering the original hard wood, redoing the kitchen, adding a bathroom to the 3rd floor, creating real closets that modern hangers can fit into, taking off the ridiculous siding covering over the façade woodwork, and on and on. Paul is already making plans for the landscaping and is ready to strip wood for me. George wants to find the pocket doors for the dining room and is going to give me panes of glass for the built-in dining room corner cabinet doors.
For some time I’ve had house envy. I want more space, more privacy. I want to be able to have my family visit for holidays, and eat at my house. I want to have parties that don’t have to spill out into the hallway or require people to squeeze out into the backyard through the narrow gap between my bookcase and my dresser. I want to be able to park on my street every day instead of searching and circling. I want a fireplace, working or non, and Susie Happy Windows. I want sun.
Figuring that I’m never going to be ready, and that there never is a right time, I just started looking. Craig’s List had a possibility that was a non-starter with an owner who’s hard to get hold of and a location in the wrong neighborhood. But George and Paul have a good friend who’s a realtor, and knew of a house around the corner for sale, and one thing led to another. And I looked in five houses today.
And I’m not falling in love with the late Victorian that needs a bunch of work but has so many of my dream elements. No, I’m not. Not at all. Well, hardly ever.
It’s the kind of place I want to live in for decades and save up money for projects as they come along - stripping the first floor of what ever plastic-y stuff is covering the original hard wood, redoing the kitchen, adding a bathroom to the 3rd floor, creating real closets that modern hangers can fit into, taking off the ridiculous siding covering over the façade woodwork, and on and on. Paul is already making plans for the landscaping and is ready to strip wood for me. George wants to find the pocket doors for the dining room and is going to give me panes of glass for the built-in dining room corner cabinet doors.
OK. It’s hopeless. I’m in love. You have to see the window seat and the 2nd floor fireplace. Then you'd know.
Tomorrow I call the mortgage broker. I’m excited and scared to death. Wish me luck. And maybe save some time in late Spring for a moving party.
Tomorrow I call the mortgage broker. I’m excited and scared to death. Wish me luck. And maybe save some time in late Spring for a moving party.
1 comment:
:swoon:
I guess having your friends do that doesn't help keep your feet on the ground, does it? It's fabulous! I have a million questions. I can help you with gardening - not the flowering kind, the vegetables.
Very exciting, whether it turns out to be the Darcy *or* the Wickham.
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