I finally did it. I grew up. I attained the American Dream. I bought a house.
Since leaving the homes of my parents after starting college, I've been living in a string of apartments. Each was better than the last, but I'd been living in the last one for more than five years. Vowing to move one last time, and into a house, I delayed the action of looking for a new living space but increased my ambitions.
Learning that I finally had the money and credit to make the leap, I dove in head first. I started looking for homes online. Tentatively at first, just to get an idea of what was out there, I came to a couple decisions about how much house I wanted and how much I wanted to pay. These numbers were somewhat arbitrary and modest. I'd been living in a two bed/one bath apartment for too long. I wanted more space. So I would aim for three beds and two baths. And a target of a quarter million as the dollar amount.
In no time, I was visiting open houses, talking with realtors, and finally choosing an agent of my own. Most of the houses I didn't like. Some were simply too cookie-cutter, nice but with no personality. Others were compressed or used the space in such a weird way that it would have been stressful to live there. Some had huge yards but the building itself was too much of a fixer-upper. And of course there was always the consideration of location. No to any place that had a driveway that would force me to back into a busy street.
I found a couple I liked.
The first met my criteria, was in a nice neighborhood not too far from a major road, and right at my price range. It included some nice perks, like a bay window in the living room. The most amazing thing about this place was the basement, which had a bathroom, laundry room, and storage. But it also had a huge hall. It must have been more than fifty feet long and twenty wide. Big enough to host a full two lane bowling alley or massive raves. But the three bedrooms were clustered together, small and with no real room for growth. Nicknamed The Basement House, it was good, but not great.
The second was only a couple blocks away, still in the same neighborhood. The place had an amazing backyard with a small farm, a fountain, and a sunken patio. The split level also had a full patio on the upper floor that ran the width of the building. Every entry and opening was barred, truly a fortress. This was because the owners were school teachers who took off during the summer months and left the house empty. We called this one The Apocalypse House because you could survive the end times there. But it, too, suffered some issues. A tiny kitchen, tiny dining room, awkward use of space. And one of the major no's on my list: split level entry. By this I mean one of those houses that is part above ground and part below, but the front door is at ground level. Thus, when you enter you must immediately choose to go up or down the stairs.
Finally, our agent brought us to our biggest surprise. When we pulled up, I didn't think much of it. Sure, it had a nice, large two car garage (something the other two houses didn't quite live up to), a giant picture window, and a nice fence around the yard, but the front of the building is entirely flat. The only protrusion is the short set of stairs leading up to the front door. But you walk into that door and find yourself in a large, comfy living room, including a giant fireplace. The style immediately dates the building back to its 60's roots, but it's still nice. From here I wandered into the kitchen, which was one of the biggest of any of the houses we'd seen, including an island, which I'd counted as a plus. I followed a door, and this lead me into the garage, which has a sort of hanging pantry. It sits on stilts in the middle (of all three dimensions) of the garage. It's like a tree house. Down and around, I found some stairs which brought me to the lower level and the laundry room. I also found two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a second living room complete with another fireplace.
Next I found a new set of stairs back up to the main level. Two more bedrooms and another bath. But most surprising, I was right back where I started and I hadn't yet seen the full building. A breakfast nook. A dinning room. A deck out back. A well-manicured, park-like, asian-style backyard. The place just went on and on, you never really felt like you hit a dead end. You never felt confined or limited. It was fun just exploring this building. It had character and potential. My son rightly dubbed it The Hundred Acre House. We were in love and would be moving in about a month later.
Luckily, before we bought the house, the home inspector said we needed to get the boards that border the roof edge (facia) replaced. The contractor did this and had them painted the same color as the rest of the house, leaving the leftover paint behind. I found this bucket and a random paint brush buried in our stuff. Of course, this wasn't a proper brush for painting a house, just one of those small art brushes, but in a pinch, it would do the job. I painted the area and got some chores done while I waited for it to dry.
