Dream House

Where thou art - that - is Home. –Emily Dickinson

We heard the house was for sale, so we decided to go check it out. It was a long way removed from the part of town we live in now, but it was a big house, and if we could make a good deal on it, it might be worth it. Besides, Lisa’s sis­ter lived nearby, so we would not be so all alone up here.

It was a long house, sin­gle story, and fin­ished in stucco. It was painted earth tones, with white trim. The out­side looked to be in rel­a­tively good con­di­tion, but the style of the build­ing told us it had seen more than a few sum­mers. The home stretched out long, like a cap­i­tal “I”; the main entrance was at one side, and we were com­ing in the other.

The door opened onto a long hall­way that stretched the length of the house. We started down the hall, and walked into the first room on our right. It was a large room, sunk down a set or two. I imme­di­ately saw it for an office, but I knew Tori would want it as a play room. The far side had long, flat tan and brown stones piled around a fire­place and cov­er­ing the whole wall. We would have plenty of time to fight over this room later, I needed to see the rest of the house.

Con­tin­u­ing back, the next room was not nearly the same size; it did not go as far back, nor was it as wide. I saw this less as cramped and more as inti­mate; this would be a fine gui­tar room with just enough space for all my gear.

The final room to the right was as deep as the office, but only as wide as the sec­ond room. It did not impress me with any char­ac­ter or use like the other rooms, so I dis­counted it as only a stor­age space. It was light and dry, but had no win­dows or other access.

This side of the house inspected, now we set our sites on the left side. We knew all the bed­rooms came off the hall­way to the left, away from the street. The first room would be the mas­ter bed­room, the room fur­thest away from all the other rooms of the house. That suited me just fine, as long as there was a good mas­ter bath.

We entered the room, and instantly saw the prob­lem. While the room was good sized– gigan­tic even– the dec­o­ra­tion left a lot to be desired. The crown mold­ing was heavy cut wood, gilded and glazed. It was twice the size of any crown mold­ing I had ever seen. It looked like the cheap frames that go around the black vel­vet paint­ings that are so abun­dant in bor­der towns and swap meets. It HAD to go.

I went deeper into the room as Lisa went to check out the mas­ter bath. She opened the door and there was a blood-curdling scream. It seems we were not asl alone as we thought we were! The own­ers were still there, one in bed, and his wife in the bathroom.

Out of my house!,” she was scream­ing at us.

But we are think­ing of buy­ing it,” Lisa tried to explain.

She would hear none of it. “Out. Now,” she con­tin­ued, as she pushed us out the back door.

Lisa and I left the house, but we stayed on the lawn. We liked the house, it suited us we thought. We went to the other side. The front door was open. We looked into the house, not want­ing to face the wrath of the home owner again. The kitchen and the liv­ing room were on this side. Both looked nice; not mod­ern, but acceptable.

We had finally got­ten wood floors in our house, and I remem­ber think­ing it ironic that after all the time and money to get the floors we had always wanted in our house, we would be back to car­pet. I actu­ally gave some thought to remov­ing the floors and bring­ing them with us. Lisa told me I was crazy, we would just start over.

The Real­tor was now with us, telling us of all the great fea­tures of the house. We did not care, we did not need to hear it, we were sold. They were ask­ing 400,000 for the house, and I knew we could get them to 360K. A year or so ago, this would have been more than 600,000. I fig­ured we could get 300 for our cur­rent house, so this was all doable.

Lisa and I con­sid­ered the extra drive time from this house. But the house had won us over; we felt it was our home.

The Real­tor then brought up the mon­u­ments in the front yard; part of the deal would be that we keep them, and keep them in good repair. I went over to the front yard and inspected them. There were four of them, evenly spaced across the front yard. They were wooden frames set in the yard, about 4 feet by 6, and painted white. They were dorm­ers, set into the Earth. The paint was peel­ing, and that would have to be addressed.

And then I noticed the yard. The grass was all dead, if there was any grass at all; most of the yard was dirt. I just assumed with a yard in this con­di­tion, there would be no sprin­kler sys­tem. I could not have a house with no sprin­klers, espe­cially not a house as long as this one. And I was in no mood to take on installing them as a project. No, I would need a con­ces­sion from the sell­ers, a dis­count to off­set the cost of green­ing up the yard.

I thought thirty thou­sand would just about cover it, but they Real­tor told me they would not go for it. We argued back and forth a bit, and we set­tled on ten thou­sand.  With as good a deal as we were get­ting ion the house itself, it seemed like a good package.

I sat there in the yard, and looked up at my new house. My new home. It was beautiful.

I woke up.

Rat­ing 3.00 out of 5

About Dave Koch

Father, writer, entrepreneur, web coder, 2008 Presidential candidate, husband and friend. Sometimes I play guitar.
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