I love to look at websites full of houses for sale. It started as an innocent diversion, a useful endeavor even, when we were looking for houses almost 18 months ago. But now it serves no practical purpose whatsoever. It’s just a dreamy diversion from my cracker carpet filled living room.
Maybe if we move… Maybe if we live closer to the grocery store…
The dream is less about the house itself (I like small, cozy, unusual even though I currently reside in big, fancy, and cookie cutter), and more about what it represents: A better life, better schools, walking distance to pubs and coffee places and restaurants and bookstores. In short, it’s a proxy for all my big dreams.
When you have kids housing takes on this extra dimension. It’s nesting, in the truest sense. Nesting… ah.. the fun of nesting. Cuddling up, picking colors, finding comfy furniture, making a place homey and welcoming a warm.
I’m a real estate hussy. But I simply cannot give it up. At least not today. And at least I’m not alone in this wicked pursuit.