I know I should be writing something cheery and barfingly sappy in honor of Thanksgiving, but I already did that for Parenting and HEY, so what if I want to WHINE and be ANGSTY right before the national holiday where we give thanks for our blessings? IT'S MY BLOG AND I'LL COMPLAIN IF I WANT TO.
This actually started out as an email to A'Dell and then it got ESPECIALLY angsty and I thought: what better place for angst that the ole website! So here we are.
What I want to know, especially from those of you with EXPERIENCE, is this: what matters more? Location? Or space?
A'Dell is selling her house and I am reading with bated breath. It's no secret that I am dying to sell our house and move into, well, The Big Enough House In The Neighborhood I Want To Live In That I Can Somehow Miraculously Afford. There are many terrifying things to obsess about, namely: how in HELL do you show your house to potential buyers when you are currently living in it with a two-year-old and a one-year-old and a husband who appears not to know how to open the hamper, but clearly knows how to put his things on TOP of the hamper? No really. HOW IS THIS ACCOMPLISHED? I'm aware it can be done, but I'm worried about the price of the medication required.
It's pointless worrying about all that (not that I will not worry about it, as you KNOW) since we are moving no matter what. Some day. Hopefully in the nearish future. Like, uh, springtime? Maybe? Summer?
The wacky plan I dreamed up - selling the house in 2010 and renting until Phillip is finished with school - may or may not be too wacky. I don't know. I plan to hunt down a real estate agent after the holidays and ask him or her a number of paranoid questions including, but in no way limited to: Is this insane?
So yeah. There is a "plan" and "action points" and we are mostly on the same page about when and how to do this. What we are NOT on the same page about is what house we want next. Granted, buying the next house is a decision a ways out from here, but you KNOW I'm going to dwell on it PLENTY before it comes up, right?
Because a week or two ago Phillip sent me a link to The Perfect House. And it was, it was very nice. It was a newish biggish house just north of Seattle with a great backyard and no need for updating or remodeling or anything of the sort Phillip and I can't do by ourselves anyway because we are RATHER untalented in that department. It was a ways out of our price range, but I didn't look at it as a potential house. I looked at it as The Kind Of House Phillip Wants. And this is where it gets sticky.
The kind of house I want is about eighty blocks south of that house. It's older, cuter, full of what people call Character. By virtue of being older and full of character, it's smaller and in dire need of updating and remodeling. It's big enough for a family of four that may or may not expand, it has a yard, but mainly it's close to everything I want to be close to. It's in the city, where I have always ALWAYS wanted to live.
Phillip also wants to live in the city. If money was no object I'm pretty sure we'd both agree on one of those giant fake Craftsmans that are springing up where old original Craftsmans used to be. Not a million dollar view house, but a huge and brand new one on a regular street in one of our favorite neighborhoods. Unfortunately, we don't have the half million, let alone the full million. I try to avert my eyes whenever I pass one because WANT! WANT! WANT!
Which leaves us with: location? Or space? (And newness, I suppose I should add. Sigh.)
This whole time I've been firmly camped in Location. Maybe we couldn't fix it up right away, but one day we could, right? As long as it had potential? As long as it was big enough for the next handful of years? As long as it was on a street in a neighborhood that we absolutely loved, within walking distance of one of the good schools.
But my husband is all about the house. Big enough, new enough, and the more I think about it, the more I think he's right. That's the logical thing to want. And I'm one of those people who walks into a house and immediately pictures my Christmas party. I could have a HUGE and AWESOME Christmas party in that house Phillip emailed to me. I seem to remember people making fun of the people who do this on House Hunters, but seriously, the Potential for Entertaining is super important to me, almost as much as A Place To Hide The Plastic Toys That Are Threatening to Bury Me Alive.
So I'm thinking he's right. Houses in the city are still crazy expensive. Space has been such a struggle for me this year - what makes me think I wouldn't mind just because I live down the street from a coffee shop and the library and two different parks?
Have any of you had to make this choice? I suppose I should say, on the eve of Thanksgiving, that I realize I'm lucky I even get to MAKE the choice. I just want to know if I'm being sort of annoying and idealistic to want this "city life" that I'm not even really sure exists. Maybe I'd be just as happy in a subdivision full of young families. I DON'T KNOW. I've been feeling like no, this is where Phillip and I are supposed to be, we need to MAKE THIS HAPPEN. But maybe not.
Anyway, I must now go yell at one of the children and see if this finally impresses upon him the idea that he should be going to sleep. (DOUBTFUL.) Tomorrow I will be cooking, Thursday I will be eating, Friday I will be childlessly gallivanting about town with my husband. I will be writing during every free moment because who cares if I have 53,000 words on paper, THEY MAKE NO SENSE. And Phillip doesn't have to go back to work until NEXT Wednesday so there is no possible way this is not going to be the best week ever.
Which I am thankful for. I hope you have something equally as awesome to share before you dive into the turkey. And I think this might be the year that no one rolls their eyes when I say I'm thankful for the people who read my dorky website. Fingers crossed!