My husband loves to surf the real estate listings late at night. Call it his porn, if you will. At least once a week (for as long as I’ve known him), Stan surfs for beautiful homes out of our price range for “research” purposes, for when we finally build our dream house. He used to drag me to Open Houses of places he had no intention of buying, so he could look at an AGA cooker up close, and assess for himself the difference between Pennsylvania Bluestone versus Italian Travertine tiles in a real-life application.
Me, on the other hand, I am inertia personified. I’m like an oak tree, strong, sturdy with a deep and fibrous root system. When we moved into this house from Calgary, I told my husband that I will be leaving it in a pine box. I love my beautiful sun-drenched craftsman house, with its 180 degree ocean view, spanning from Mt. Baker to Texada Island. Each of our three sons have lived their entire lives in this house – their heights etched in indelible ink on their bedroom door frames at every birthday. So when Stan takes me to look at other houses for “research purposes”, I feel insincere at best, and sometimes downright grouchy. As such, he’s been going to Open Houses solo for the last 5-7 years.
A few weeks ago I was going through the daily deluge of flyers, coupons and other direct mail pieces courtesy of Canada Post, when I came across a real estate brochure and noticed a modern house (his favourite) situated on a lovely cul-de-sac that our friends used to live on, so I pointed the house out to Stan. Imagine my surprise when he invited me to go view the house with him!
But I was curious, so I went along. And it sure was a beauty. On the golf course for Stan! With a writing nook for me! A gaming room with a door to keep the sound in! A pool table and a pool! It was a grown-up haven for our growing-up boys and their ensuing entourage, and Stan and I simply loved clean, modern look. But it was still out of our price range, so we thanked the realtor for his time and went home.
Two days later, the price dropped by 20%. Apparently the owners were divorcing and eager to move on with their lives, but we took this as a sign that even the universe supported this move, so we snapped it up.
Now onto culling twelve years of handmade birthday gifts, university textbooks, Webkinz stuffies, Pokemon cards, Beyblades, clothes, throw pillows, half-empty perfume bottles and I begin to wonder if it was the house I loved, or its lack of clutter?
Garage sale notices appearing here soon!