Ten years ago, Matt and I thought very carefully about whether to buy our house. For about one minute. Truth is, we were sold the as soon as we saw it.
We loved the long hallway with bookcases (now full) from floor to ceiling. We loved the boards in the kitchen floor that are over two feet wide. We loved all the nooks and crannies. We loved the wide side porch below and room for a hammock on the porch above. We loved odd angles and surprising doorways. We loved the idea of extra room, which we did not have in our first house (which was about 800 square feet). We loved the location – we’ve never had more than one car. We loved it then and have grown to love it more.
Having said that, this was never a very practical choice. We were a family of two at that time – still years away from having a baby. We didn’t need the four bedrooms and we still don’t. We didn’t have anywhere near enough furniture for several years. And like every hundred year old house, this is an ongoing project. I’ll wield a paint brush with the best of them, but my skills don’t extend much beyond that. We’ve needed (and paid for) a lot of help around here.
Now that I may or may not have trouble with stairs and balance in a few years, we’ve got a whole new set of issues to think about. We currently have three staircases – not including the basement – and two random steps in the middle of the upstairs just thrown in for good measure.
The house — though beloved — is more impractical than ever in the long term.
So, we sold it! We closed yesterday. I’ll miss it terribly and I’m sure I’ll be very emotional when it comes time to leave, but right now it’s much more sweet than bitter. I think Matt and I are both really excited about what’s coming next.
And as an added bonus, we don’t even have to move. The people who bought it from us are renting it back to us for the next year or two while we work on building a house that will, I’m sure, be just as beloved.
I love it when a plan comes together.