Daydreaming

Tonight, I go to see a house for sale. I'm not in the market for a house, not with my credit and my salary. In fact, I have no hope of being able to buy this house, inexpensive though it may be, unless a fairy godmother flits down and buys it for me or gives me the money with which to do so.

Contrarily, my biggest hope for this visit is that I get inside and find something incredibly wrong with it. Maybe it will be missing a toilet or have a hole in the ceiling where squirrels have chewed through the attic floor. (I had hoped for an extremely wet basement, but one of my friends looked at the house last year and informs me the basement is in immaculate condition.) I am hoping for ruin.

You see, I have fallen in love with this house and I need a reason to break up with it without regret.

There are many practical reasons to love it: it's quite close to work, it's in a fantastic neighborhood that I would feel absolutely safe in, and it's priced well below market value. It comes with new appliances, it has new air conditioning, new flooring, and new windows. I wouldn't have to do a thing to it for it to be livable for me. It's small (870 sq. ft), but how much room do I really need? One bedroom for me, one bedroom for a study--I'm good!

Practicality is all well and good, but I need more for love, for something to be right. I need charm and personality. This house has both. It has window boxes just waiting to be flowered. It has a cute front porch that welcomes you in and a sprawling back deck inviting you to kick back and watch the sun set. There is a burbling pond with waterfall near the deck for ambient noise, but even with the large deck and the waterfall, there's still plenty of yard. There are trees and perennials in the back as well as grassy expanses. The side yard is quite large as well, and an arbor to direct you to the little courtyardy area that would be perfect for a bench or a stone cafe table. The only thing the yard needs is a fence to make it perfect.

I've seen the inside only from pictures and from peering through doors and windows. I don't know what the bathroom looks like, nor the master bedroom, nor the basement. These are all important areas to examine. Even without knowing those parts, though, I can picture myself living there. I know how I would paint, I know where the furniture would go, I've designed the island for the kitchen, and I can see the perfectly placed Christmas tree. I know exactly what small things I would do to bring out the full charm this house has. I would be so good for it! It's not ideal for everyone, but I feel like I'm the crooked lid for this crooked pot.

So I really need for there to be an infestation of bees in the attic or no shower in the bathroom or something that enables me to let it go. Because--no matter how perfect we are for each other--this long distance relationship thing just isn't working for me.


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Update:
This is why I went.

I'm still wildly attracted to the facade. The outside has, if anything, gotten more charming and attractive (Japanese maples! THREE!). On further inspection, though, the inside...well, we could still be happy together. It could be done.

But it would take more work than I thought. There might be more healing than I'm truly equipped to undertake. This house and I could coexist and even be content, but there would always be these things niggling at the contentment. The ancient cardboard kitchen cabinets. The aged windows ("Newer windows!" you say? Where, exactly?). There may be too many old flaws I couldn't correct.

The yard, the curb appeal, these are looks I'm still drawn to. And looking out every window made me smile, for which I could overlook an awful lot on the interior. The outside is very close to a dream come true. There are far more good points than bad, when all is said and done and if offered the opportunity to have the house, I would take it. I would. It's not the house, it's me. *sigh*

I think we should just stay friends.