House Hunting

There’s nothing more fitting during the fall than to go house hunting. There’s something about tree-lined streets with fallen leaves scattered on lawns and leftover Halloween decorations that makes any house, no matter how horrid it is inside, appear charming outside. This is also a very good economic climate to be a house-buyer. Nonetheless, with a small budget, there’s no limit to how horrid the inside of a house for sale can look.

Scott and Lindsay have been looking at houses for about a month now. It’s so much easier to look at halls and DJs and photographers. The initial investment costs about the same; but compare the day you begin your life together to the days you will spend your life together. Walking down the aisle are the small steps you take, while stepping over the threshold into your newly bought house is one of the biggest steps of your lives. As a matter of fact, sometimes walking into your house can be equated to walking into quicksand. You can sink further and further into debt and uncertainty for as long as you live there. Sounds pretty ominous, right? Well, anyone who owns a home right now is probably nodding in agreement. Sure, it’s exciting and filled with promise. You can envision yourself waking up in the morning and going straight to your kitchen to make yourself coffee and toast. And when you finally are living there, reality sinks in and you begin to despise the cabinets that you considered not so bad the first day you saw them. You think to yourself, ‘How much longer can I live with these?” as you open one of the draws that continues to fall off the track.” You start thinking about the cabinets in the other house you liked, except the bathroom there was way too small and there was only one. At least you have two bathrooms in this house, even though there’s a serious leak under the sink in one of them that’s corroding the bottom of that cabinet. That’s one of the things on the “To Do” list that keeps growing longer and longer every day.

The first house I owned, I remember trotting happily down the stairs in my pajamas to put up my first load of laundry. I was giddy with excitement. I could actually stay in my own house, rather than get in the car and sit in a laundromat for four hours. It was liberating… until I turned on the machine. There was an odd sound that gave me the first clue that something wasn’t right. I turned the knob again, while holding my breath and praying. Nothing. That was the point when I heard the k’ching, k’ching of my bank account. That was the point when I realized that the most useful and used book in my house was the Yellow Pages, specifically, the page for “Repairmen”. That first year in my house, I met more repairmen than I had in my whole life. It put new meaning to the memory of when my brother was a little boy and he used to play “Fix It” Man with my mom. He would go outside with his play tools and ring the bell and my mother would call loudly, “Who’s there?” “It’s the Fix It Man,” he would answer. “Come in, I need you to look at the refrigerator.” Little did I know that my mother and brother were reenacting reality.

Still, looking at houses in the fall is fun. It’s lovely being the one not buying the house, too. As our feet crunch through leaves walking towards the front doors, I picture Scott and Lindsay beginning their married life. I can see them putting away the contents of the piles of boxes of engagement gifts that are taking up space in my house. I picture Lindsay’s room becoming my retreat, where I will become a bona fide author. I imagine decorating it with inspirational knick- knacks, a bookcase filled with books, a desk with a holder for all my pens, a chair. I’m getting carried away with the imagery, while we walk through another house that has endless flaws in their price-range. I say, “Don’t look at the flaws, look at the possibilities.” This is the difference between Lindsay and Scott. Scott sees the structural flaws, whereas, Lindsay sees the aesthetic ones. He sees the lawn that has a little slope to it and winces, while she sees pink backsplashes in the kitchen and grimaces.

It’s going to be a long process. They fear they won’t find a house by the time the wedding comes. “Can we live with you for a few months, if that happens, Mom?” my daughter asks me. I try not to wince or grimace, but inside, my heart sinks, although, how can I say “no”? And I wonder, will I ever get my retreat? That’s when I remember that sometimes, traveling for my job has some benefits and hotel rooms in cities far away can offer you the peace and identity that’s hard to find in a house full of people. And while I’m in the Crowne Plaza in Philadelphia, that week, pretending it’s my apartment, I get a phone call from my husband. “Remember that piece we noticed flapping around on the side of the house. Well, the roofer came by today”…..k’ching, k’ching.