Our apartment was spacious and rich with history; the building is a converted 19th century mansion near UPenn. There's even a quaint horse post in front.
I imagined ghostly horses of Christmases past being tied to it (or whatever old timey term was used) by spectral riders.
Oh, what a marvelous apartment it was!
But this being Earth and not Sparkly Unicornland, there was a problem.
Several problems, actually.
For starters, our in-building neighbors, with noteworthy exceptions, were 20-something ass pilots. Their every thought and imagination seemed to be fixed on answering the question: what truly assholistic thing can I do today? Surely something!
So there was that.
And then there was the deep oldness. Oh, I know I said it was stately and quaint, which it was, and that I liked to imagine zombie horses (or something). Which I did. But it was also musty almost always and drafty in the winter. I learned, to my dismay, that spaces with really high ceilings are hard to comfortably heat. The laws of physics are merciless bullies. We may be playthings to the gods but even the gods are playthings to the laws of thermodynamics.
And the summers! I wrapped myself in linen and hummed the theme song to "Lawrence of Arabia". Both because it's a rousing tune (lawwwwrennnnnce...lawrence of araaabiaaaaa, oh look at him lawrencing, lawrencing, alllll over the place!), but also because I was drunk like a Carthaginian from the heat. The same space which was chilly in the winter became a heat sink during the torrid months.
Er, and then there was this: I'm a 21st century sort of bloke and like 21st century things. But this space -- this $1400.00 per month space -- didn't provide what Bjork once croonily described as 'thossse modern thingssss.'
Finally, the landlord (who was a lovely man and kept the place in excellent repair with neither hem nor haw) was in his late 70s. It was only a matter of time before he sold and moved to Tuscon. Who knew what would happen with subsequent owners?
...
One day, probably while I was lying on the beautiful wood floor imagining my forces approaching Mecca, my wife turned to me and said, 'okay, that's enough, we need to buy a house!'
'But what about a new apartment?" I replied. 'One with 21st century things and owners who aren't going anywhere and in-building neighbors who don't watch "The Hills" (or at least, don't watch it un-ironically)?'
No, she insisted, there was nothing doing. No more apartments. It was time for a house.
...
Our criteria was simple: the (fixed rate!) mortgage should match our current rent or, ideally, be less. The space should be in good enough repair that we can have a reasonable expectation of no major issues for approximately five years. Of course, shit happens but if for example you have a new, well made, correctly installed water heater, you can reasonably expect no problems for a good while.
Also, the house should be small by boomtime standards so our apartment furniture (which, thanks to my wife was good, durable, stylish stuff) would find a nice new niche. The rooms should be compact yet spacious enough for adult dimensions. This, to make it more easily cooled and heated. And please, can it be fully wired for current and future developments? One other thing: there should be good space for decorative and food producing gardening.
I said, 'if we find a house that meets those requirements then I'm 100 percent in this to win it. But, on the other hand, if all we see are half million dollar plus mega spaces designed to help us pretend we have money we really don't, and if you fall in love with one of those spaces we're going to tussle like Kahless and Molor.'
She's a pragmatic lass so my concerns were totally unjustified.
...
We found that house! A 60 year old stone fortress. The sellers modernized everything to make it more attractive and, as the market began to show signs of weakness, sold at more or less the break even point. Which saved us tens of thousands and made the monthly payments and maintenance costs very reasonable (so far).
So aside from the Brutal War Against All Mice (aka, Dwayne's sonic battle against hanta virus vectors) and the cement work needed to elevate the basement doorway to prevent downward gradient caused flooding and the hornet's nest in the 50 year old oak tree in our back yard and the yellow jacket nest in the lawn which made mowing (my exciting new job!) a dangerous game between man and social hive mind beast and the crazy neighbor who forgets to move his trash to where it needs to be so sanitation will pick it up and something else I'm forgetting to mention...
Aside from that it's working out.
.d.
-- ""...and glowing green spheres cannot suddenly appear from out of nowhere and hope to remain unmolested."
Gen. Hapablap .............................. http://monroelab.net/blog/