Dream House

My husband and I decided to indulge our real estate fantasies yesterday by attending a few open houses in our neighborhood.  As it happens, we found our dream house.  The only problem is there are 3 of us in our family, and it probably is only big enough for 2.

For starters, all the positives:  It’s a midcentury modern ranch house in Arlington that has been completely renovated – from top to toe, stem to stern.  The renovation is utterly beautiful – top of the line materials, appliances, lighting fixtures, flooring, etc., etc.  It’s swoon-worthy.

And it’s only slightly over $1M for about 1300 square feet of living space.

Say whaaaaat?

Yup, that’s our neighborhood right now – houses flying off the market for $1M plus. For those who think real estate is still struggling to make a comeback after the Great Real Estate Bubble of 2007, they clearly haven’t visited Arlington, Virginia.  Our area is on fire right now.  And with everyone around me moving, I want to, as well….

When we got home after our Sunday afternoon excursion, I gave my husband my sulkiest, big eyed look for approval to consider buying this wonderful old rambler, not that we can afford it, we can’t – and he did agree it was just beautiful and perfect.  No stairs to speak of (a good thing, given our aging knees), a real garage, all new everything – we could die in that house and everything would still be new! Of course, that implies an earlier than desirable passing on our part; worst case, everything in the house would be middle-aged and only in need of a facelift when our estate got settled to pay off Medicaid in 2035.

In any event, David gave me his “my god, I am a patient soul” look and, nodding his head, stated the obvious (to him):  the house was “the right house at the wrong time.” 

Blast.  Once again, that man is trying to save me from myself!

Here’s the thing, though:  I am getting restless. There are things in our house right now that I just don’t like – some of my own making – like the scratches on the stainless steel door of the refrigerator that I put there(by accident) when I removed my daughter's pre-school artwork 5 years ago with a knife (the old tape was like glue on that door).

For example, I want to renovate our original-to-the-house (1964)  ensuite bathroom if only so that the shower head stops dripping and I can sleep through the night again.  And I want new sparkling, unscratched kitchen appliances, specifically a refrigerator without big scratch marks and an oven that doesn’t have grease build-up impossible to “self clean.” 

I also want new granite counters and a new tile backsplash, just because there are prettier ones out there.

No, I don’t do DIY.

As my wonderful husband well knows, when I whip myself into a fever-state like this, it takes something serious to snap me out of it – like a tuition bill, or the risk of unemployment, or a notice letter from the IRS.  So my husband threatened to retire this morning.

Oh, hell, a girl can dream, can’t she?