Friday is my first day off, but I have to give my last midyear review and recieve mine. I get an email from my boss that he's worried we had our wires crossed since he got an out of office from me (I love that one of my PMs calls these OOTOs - it sounds funny when you say it phoenetically). But I simply can't fit in all my work activities in 4 days this week and our flight isn't until 3pm. My boss wants to talk to me because there are some things he wants to explain - but he has to move the meeting out due to a conflict. I tell him it's all ok - just not too late because at 1pm my laptop is powering down to start it's vacation.
...
Right as my (delayed) review is about to start I see the Intermountain Rural Electric van pull up outside. I am only half in nosey-neighbor mode today (my home office window faces the street and I see all the ladies on their midday walks, the kids skateboarding in formation, neighbors chatting over the fence, and I feel vaguely creepy watching all of it from afar). Then 2 minutes later our power goes out. I run downstairs in my PJs and see the electric guy coming from the side of our house. I incredulously say, "Did you just cut our power?" He responds that he did, that our bill is in arrears, asks my last name. I know he's only doing his job, but I have a hard time being civil - I need power to have internet to do my review and I have sheets in the wash and I gave myself time for leisurely packing and whatnot, but I didn't account for drama.
...
It turns out that Xcel doesn't provide electricity in this area. So when we transferred our Xcel account they only transferred the gas. But didn't bother to tell us about their lack of ability to transfer the electric. We haven't gotten a bill yet for just the new house, so we haven't seen this change. The dweeb who owned our house before has not canceled his account - and while I have probably seen bills to him for IRE, I simply write "please forward" and put them back in the mailbox. [BTW, I do get to call him a dweeb. He left no forwarding address, and he did annoying things like turn the water down to the bare minimum after he sold the place. This left us with brown spots in the front yard and a cordial but annoying letter from the HOA which arrived our first week there telling us to please fix it so we don't bring our neighbors' property values down.] So IRE hasn't mailed us a "welcome" packed because they think he's in arrears and we've never heard of IRE before meeting the poor man cutting our power this morning. 30 minutes on the phone (mostly on hold, but then with a helpful woman who gets this type of thing all the time - I cannot describe how much I don't want her job) and we're promised that the power will be back "sometime today." Which means my review is phone only and the washer is still stopped midcycle. But at least my house sitters won't have to figure this out - can you imagine if it happened while they were there?
...
So a lot of the stuff we're planning to do today doesn't work out that well. Not sure if Iggy got through paying the bills online or got his music downloaded. I know he didn't get a movie downloaded. But the power does come on in about 90 minutes (thank you IRE!) and I get all the bedding done in time to change all the beds and we get that last load of clothes through the dryer so Iggy can pack (I packed last week before I went to Bismarck because I was afraid I wouldn't have time when I got back Thursday night - something usually goes wrong with my return trip and I am not distrustful that it will work as I planned).
...
I am repacking my purse and trying to figure out what purse is big enough to hold my iPad but sorta beach-y. I end up not finding one so I start to reuse my purse from last week (which is cool in it's own way, but hello! I wanted to change so I could break from work and feel like I am on vacation!). Iggy comes in and says, "I can't fit your present in my bag -- do you want to open it now and see if you want to take it?" I open it and it's a Kate Spade bag in khaki and orange (I don't have an orange purse yet) and it looks really beach-y! Plus since I've wanted a Kate Spade purse for the last two years -- since I had to get glasses and somehow ended up with Kate Spade frames. He points out that it's made of cotton and 2 years is the cotton anniversary. I have a *swoon* moment - he notices me being bummed about my purse choice right now, he listens (he remembers my Kate Spade quest) and he knows what colors of purses I have (granted I did just use up half a shelf in the new walk-in closet arranging my purses) and he knows what motif is for a 2-year anniversary! Then I have a sad moment, because the thing I gave up today with our electricity debacle is gift shopping. I had dreams all last night about getting something and presenting it with a couple cotton balls and q-tips as some sort of bow. So now I am empty handed. But he looks quite please with himself and I promise to make it up to him later.
...
We finish about 30 minutes later than we planned on leaving, but I think we still have enough time to make the flight. The part we won't get to do is the Bon Voyage drink at the airport bar before we get on the plane. Small sacrifice. But as we're leaving the thunderclouds roll in. We start to worry about the dog (who hates thunder) and a little about delays at the airport. It turns out that I closed the closet door where Radar likes to hide and he has locked himself in the bathroom and chewed the doorknob in an attempt to get out. This is typical and he is otherwise unscathed when the dog sitter gets there about 90 minutes after we leave. (sigh - we really need to get that crate for him!) The other issue is that we do sit on the runway for 40 minutes. There was only about 35 minutes for our connection in LAX, so we end up missing that plane by about 10 minutes. They won't hold the plane even though 7 people on our flight need that connection because they pride themselves on on-time statistics, I guess. I think this is particularly rotten, but I am not one of the people who chooses an airline by their ontime stats -- I care more about safety stats and my miles, I guess. One family is trying to get to Maui for a wedding tomorrow (one is a bridesmaid!) and they are extremely high strung about it. At least all I am trying to do is lay on the beach or something - I can wait a day to start that.
...
The airline rebooked us on another airline and gives us a shuttle to get directly to the gate. Thoughtful. When we get to the counter we find out that they haven't rebooked us to first class (we splurged for the trip there wanting to have the long flight in comfort and celebrate). The new airline has 2 seats left and will let us pay to upgrage. So we do that and hope that the other company will be refunding our first class upgrade from the canceled flight.
...
First Class is an experience. I knew I'd like the free drinks. I don't particularly like being waited on like I am in a restaurant since I don't think you tip. For the 20 people in first class there are 2 attendants. Coach has 2 as well, but there are maybe 100 people back there. It all seems so pertensious and I vaguely feel out of place. Someday maybe I will feel entitled to this -- like the teenager across the aisle. I can't image growing up flying first class, but if you knew nothing else, it would seem normal, I suppose. I say thank you every time and try to be polite and not needy. The captain comes out and introduces himself, chats with every First Class passenger, asks about their trip. The couple behind us seems like a young, flighty gold digger and a late-30s guy who feels like he should be getting married soon. Or maybe he just wants an expensive booty call by taking his girl on a fancy vacation. They're loud and annoying but they say they approve of our drinks and say we might be their new party friends in Maui. I am mildly appeased, but I end up watching the in-flight movie so I don't have to hear their witty banter anymore. Later when I am sleeping leaning on Iggy she puts her feet in the space between our seats and I am vaugely grossed out by having her feet on my side. At least I enjoyed the meal, the drinks and the leg room was fantastic. The seat was pretty comfy too. I am mostly happy that we're making it to Maui tonight instead of being stranded in LA for a night.
...
Arriving in Maui is a bit of an ordeal. We don't have the plant declaration form that was supposedly on our seats when we boarded, so we pretend to be a part of the family in front of us until they are questioned about bringing an animal into the country. But this is useful as we just slip by while they're explaining themselves. There is the moment of tension at the luggage claim while we wonder if our bags made the airline transfer with us, but they both arrive. The rental car places appear to be closed, but we realize after a minute that the stores are just "fronts" and that you have to take a shuttle to the real rental car desk. There we are up-sold to a convertible Mustang at a "deal" since we are on an anniversary trip and since I want to be able to drive the car it's an extra $X/day. So we leave feeling a little frustrated that this trip is so expensive and so far all it has been is travel. It's 10pm by the time we're leaving the airport and dark. Iggy says, "Is this how you pictured Hawaii?" It's not, really, but the adventure is wearing on me by this point. At little ways out of town, driving along the coastline and looking at the city lights at the base of the mountains silhouetted against the sky. This is more what I pictured Hawaii looking like.
...
We arrive at the hotel and realize it's a charge to park your car every day, to use the safe in the room is a fee every day, etc. Parking is challenging because all the spaces are for compact cars and we have the behemoth Mustang. We finally find a spot on the top floor. Our room has two queen beds (we wanted 1 king)and to my tired eyes the place looks run down.
...
But, mercifully, the room is cool, the bed is soft and I am dead tired. I bet tomorrow the hotel looks better and I am not so grumpy about the cost of everything.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Thanks, Good Neighbor
[doorbell]
I'm in the middle of a call with a large number of people from work and am one of two people representing my team, but know that the guys working on the house painting or our realtor might be coming by today. I guess I can take the 2 minutes it would take to answer the door without anyone knowing.
A timid man half hiding behind the side of the garage asked if I was the home owner (no) or the "lady of the house." I am unsure what that means so I said, "I live here."
At that he launched full speed into a monologue about the dead tree in my back yard and that he had to give me citation because the lady down the street called in to complain about all the dead trees in the neighborhood (at least 3 others) how we needed to remove it, not necessarily all of it, we could leave a stump...
I couldn't get a word in edgewise (apparently once he starts his explanation it's all or nothing).
Just then the call I was listening to with my other ear (I had my cell phone headset on) said something I thought I had to pay attention to so I moved my phone up and started to unmute when my counterpart spoke up.
The poor little man said, "Oh, sorry, didn't realize you were on the phone."
"It's ok. I understand about the tree. We had it cut back last year when it had leaves on it, and were hoping it would come back at least a little this year."
I'm not mad at that guy that came by...but my neighbor is another question. In my opinion, if she's enough of a busybody to complain, she is probably enough of a busybody to know that we're working on the house. Surely she noticed the guys patching the stucco and painting this week. Or Iggy cutting down the dead branches on the bush in the front yard. (The little man noticed our bundles of branches and the painting supplies on the front porch.) Or the guys that were here last month ripping off the old deck roof or the guys from the next week putting a new roof over the deck. Or the fact that the tree is smaller than it was last summer.
It bugs me that this thing is anonymous. I wish our neighbor would've felt like they could come talk to us. So they'd know it was on our list - but for later. As it is I get a whole 35 days to get quotes, choose a contractor, actually get the contractor out here to do the work (which, in my experience is the hardest part between their schedules and the weather) and complete the work.
Should I wonder good citizen also complains about my neighbors dogs that bark nonstop if I'm gardening or sitting on my deck? Or if she also complains about the family 2 doors down that shoots fireworks for most of June and July. She is probably married to the guy that sweeps the street in his shorts and tank top. I hope you get some perverse thrill out of making me spend $2k this month that I had earmarked for a washer/dryer/frig at the new place because that guy wanted to sell them all on Craigslist.
I'm in the middle of a call with a large number of people from work and am one of two people representing my team, but know that the guys working on the house painting or our realtor might be coming by today. I guess I can take the 2 minutes it would take to answer the door without anyone knowing.
A timid man half hiding behind the side of the garage asked if I was the home owner (no) or the "lady of the house." I am unsure what that means so I said, "I live here."
At that he launched full speed into a monologue about the dead tree in my back yard and that he had to give me citation because the lady down the street called in to complain about all the dead trees in the neighborhood (at least 3 others) how we needed to remove it, not necessarily all of it, we could leave a stump...
I couldn't get a word in edgewise (apparently once he starts his explanation it's all or nothing).
Just then the call I was listening to with my other ear (I had my cell phone headset on) said something I thought I had to pay attention to so I moved my phone up and started to unmute when my counterpart spoke up.
The poor little man said, "Oh, sorry, didn't realize you were on the phone."
"It's ok. I understand about the tree. We had it cut back last year when it had leaves on it, and were hoping it would come back at least a little this year."
I'm not mad at that guy that came by...but my neighbor is another question. In my opinion, if she's enough of a busybody to complain, she is probably enough of a busybody to know that we're working on the house. Surely she noticed the guys patching the stucco and painting this week. Or Iggy cutting down the dead branches on the bush in the front yard. (The little man noticed our bundles of branches and the painting supplies on the front porch.) Or the guys that were here last month ripping off the old deck roof or the guys from the next week putting a new roof over the deck. Or the fact that the tree is smaller than it was last summer.
It bugs me that this thing is anonymous. I wish our neighbor would've felt like they could come talk to us. So they'd know it was on our list - but for later. As it is I get a whole 35 days to get quotes, choose a contractor, actually get the contractor out here to do the work (which, in my experience is the hardest part between their schedules and the weather) and complete the work.
Should I wonder good citizen also complains about my neighbors dogs that bark nonstop if I'm gardening or sitting on my deck? Or if she also complains about the family 2 doors down that shoots fireworks for most of June and July. She is probably married to the guy that sweeps the street in his shorts and tank top. I hope you get some perverse thrill out of making me spend $2k this month that I had earmarked for a washer/dryer/frig at the new place because that guy wanted to sell them all on Craigslist.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
House Hunting is Like Internet Dating
One of my more famous "blurts" at work was when I told a client that "my job is like internet dating."
Awkward silence.
I realized what I'd said and explained: I work from home. I never meet any of the people I work with -- either clients or co-workers. When I do we usually exchange head-shot photos, a description on what we'll be wearing or at least arrange to meet at a public place like the Starbucks in Terminal A. We're nervous and vaguely excited to see what the real person is like after emailing or talking for a few months. (Of course there are a few key difference between dating and work relationships: the end game, in particular.)
Today I am thinking that house-hunting on Zillow is like internet dating. Consider the facts:
- I am searching Zillow for a particular price range (internet dating: age range)
- I am looking at pictures of the house (internet dating: pictures of the person) meant to show the best possible lighting, angles, magazine-gloss available given the subject
- There is a blurb telling me all the positive facets of the house/person and subtly leaving out the negative features
- When I get to actually see the house (internet dating: meet the person) it's not quite the image I had build up in my mind based on our brief, written relationship. Sometimes this is good, other times not so much.
- 90% of the time, even though I see the possibilities (I was doing some screening, after all), it sounds like too much work and really what I'm looking for (thank goodness I am not in the dating game anymore).
The other thing that struck me about the job search was how good/natural our real estate agent was at checking up on the relationship. After each house hunting session he asks, "How are you feeling? What are you thinking? What did you like/not like?" And then he adds some positive reinforcement like "we'll just keep looking, the right one is out there. We've got plenty of time."
Our most recent house-hunting expedition produced some enticing opportunities. One where we were really interested and basically there was no way to get it down to our price range (or get our downpayment high enough to approach the bank for a loan). REJECTION! (You're still following the dating theme, right?) Another one was really cool, but the guest bathroom on the main level had floor-to-ceiling mirrors on all 4 walls. This would be uncomfortable (I think) for my guests -- at least it would offer me way more information that I truly needed while taking care of business. Other than that the house looked great for entertaining. (Or maybe it depends on the type of entertaining you're doing. I recently read an article in Redbook on swingers clubs which pushed a few of my boundaries...but that's a different post, I am sure.)
At any rate, we're still out there kissing frogs (looking at houses) with the help of our fairy godmother (don't tell the real estate guy that I called him that, please, I am not sure he'd appreciate it).
Signed,
The Princess
PS - Contemplating a biography with a working title "Life is Like Internet Dating..."
Awkward silence.
I realized what I'd said and explained: I work from home. I never meet any of the people I work with -- either clients or co-workers. When I do we usually exchange head-shot photos, a description on what we'll be wearing or at least arrange to meet at a public place like the Starbucks in Terminal A. We're nervous and vaguely excited to see what the real person is like after emailing or talking for a few months. (Of course there are a few key difference between dating and work relationships: the end game, in particular.)
Today I am thinking that house-hunting on Zillow is like internet dating. Consider the facts:
- I am searching Zillow for a particular price range (internet dating: age range)
- I am looking at pictures of the house (internet dating: pictures of the person) meant to show the best possible lighting, angles, magazine-gloss available given the subject
- There is a blurb telling me all the positive facets of the house/person and subtly leaving out the negative features
- When I get to actually see the house (internet dating: meet the person) it's not quite the image I had build up in my mind based on our brief, written relationship. Sometimes this is good, other times not so much.
- 90% of the time, even though I see the possibilities (I was doing some screening, after all), it sounds like too much work and really what I'm looking for (thank goodness I am not in the dating game anymore).
The other thing that struck me about the job search was how good/natural our real estate agent was at checking up on the relationship. After each house hunting session he asks, "How are you feeling? What are you thinking? What did you like/not like?" And then he adds some positive reinforcement like "we'll just keep looking, the right one is out there. We've got plenty of time."
Our most recent house-hunting expedition produced some enticing opportunities. One where we were really interested and basically there was no way to get it down to our price range (or get our downpayment high enough to approach the bank for a loan). REJECTION! (You're still following the dating theme, right?) Another one was really cool, but the guest bathroom on the main level had floor-to-ceiling mirrors on all 4 walls. This would be uncomfortable (I think) for my guests -- at least it would offer me way more information that I truly needed while taking care of business. Other than that the house looked great for entertaining. (Or maybe it depends on the type of entertaining you're doing. I recently read an article in Redbook on swingers clubs which pushed a few of my boundaries...but that's a different post, I am sure.)
At any rate, we're still out there kissing frogs (looking at houses) with the help of our fairy godmother (don't tell the real estate guy that I called him that, please, I am not sure he'd appreciate it).
Signed,
The Princess
PS - Contemplating a biography with a working title "Life is Like Internet Dating..."
Sunday, February 26, 2012
House Hunting for The Princess
So you'd think that The Princess (me) would like a big mansion with all the upgrades and tons of space.
Frankly, I am scared of big open spaces in the house. What the heck do you do with them? Cartwheel across your living room until you reach the kitchen? I was never that great a gymnastics... I envision the Bruce Wayne manor, with that long table where Bruce (Keaton) is at one end and Vicki Vale (Basinger) is at the other end and there are like 30 chairs between them, and rooms you never go in. Decadent, but vaguely creepy. Once you do have to go in one of those forgotten rooms for something it (either the room or the item, or both) would probably be infested with spiders.
Yesterday we looked at a few more houses. We focused on the east/central side of town.
One house we saw was a undervalued because it was a repossession where the people leaving had taken all the appliances, all the cabinet knobs, and it had no less than 5 paint colors on walls visible from the front entryway. It would be a nice one to fix up. It was 3 blocks from "casual fast" food like Chipotle, a coffee shop and a grocery store. So it had the walking distance thing going for it. The down side (for me) was that the space would all be used up once we were moved in - with only 3 bedrooms we'd have a master bedroom and each of us would get an office (except the dog, but I asked and he was ok with that). There was a small basement and we could finish it, but I think a bedroom would leave the rest of it feeling small. My office would be kick-ass, though, because the rooms were so big.
We looked at another one really close to our coveted Cherry Creek area. Not really walking distance to anything, and it didn't have a real space for 2 offices and had no garage (I hate scraping my windows in the morning -- and I don't even drive to work. See? I am The Princess).
The strangest house we saw had not one, but TWO, workshop areas. There would be a lot of pressure to start learning woodworking, something involving a blow torch and a welding mask, or at least a fancy historical car needing refinishing. But there were lots of places to hang those pictures of curvy chix on motorcycles on the wall. It also had a Mother-in-Law apartment next to one of the workshops. That had a bathtub with a 2-foot ceiling - which would be perfect for washing the dog if your MIL would let you in her apartment.
We saw another one that was move-in ready -- only needed window coverings. That one had a few remodels done to help update it, was open (which seems to be a side effect of tri-levels), had nice neutral tan paint, hardwood floors, updated kitchen, more closets than we currently have. But a dinky master bath with the sinks in the same room as the bed (no real divider). Priced appropriately. In the middle of random suburbia. But minutes from I-25...
So you'd think with as picky as I am, I should get a house in the "being-built" stage so that I could choose the floor plan and the fixtures. EEEEK! That is way too intimidating too. It's way easier to see what didn't work on something that is already done... I would probably pick out Cowboy paint colors, Southwest tile, Ultra-Modern cabinets and antique Asian cabinet handles all for the kitchen. And I would love each item individually so much that I would believe it would "just work" once it was all together so I wouldn't listen to the advice of the expert. Then I would walk into the finished kitchen and exclaim, "What mess of historical eras and cultures threw up to create this kitchen?!?!"
On the up side, I am probably perfect material for one of those DIY-Network shows where they try to help you find the perfect house. And everyone would have great sympathy for my poor Iggy.
Frankly, I am scared of big open spaces in the house. What the heck do you do with them? Cartwheel across your living room until you reach the kitchen? I was never that great a gymnastics... I envision the Bruce Wayne manor, with that long table where Bruce (Keaton) is at one end and Vicki Vale (Basinger) is at the other end and there are like 30 chairs between them, and rooms you never go in. Decadent, but vaguely creepy. Once you do have to go in one of those forgotten rooms for something it (either the room or the item, or both) would probably be infested with spiders.
Yesterday we looked at a few more houses. We focused on the east/central side of town.
One house we saw was a undervalued because it was a repossession where the people leaving had taken all the appliances, all the cabinet knobs, and it had no less than 5 paint colors on walls visible from the front entryway. It would be a nice one to fix up. It was 3 blocks from "casual fast" food like Chipotle, a coffee shop and a grocery store. So it had the walking distance thing going for it. The down side (for me) was that the space would all be used up once we were moved in - with only 3 bedrooms we'd have a master bedroom and each of us would get an office (except the dog, but I asked and he was ok with that). There was a small basement and we could finish it, but I think a bedroom would leave the rest of it feeling small. My office would be kick-ass, though, because the rooms were so big.
We looked at another one really close to our coveted Cherry Creek area. Not really walking distance to anything, and it didn't have a real space for 2 offices and had no garage (I hate scraping my windows in the morning -- and I don't even drive to work. See? I am The Princess).
The strangest house we saw had not one, but TWO, workshop areas. There would be a lot of pressure to start learning woodworking, something involving a blow torch and a welding mask, or at least a fancy historical car needing refinishing. But there were lots of places to hang those pictures of curvy chix on motorcycles on the wall. It also had a Mother-in-Law apartment next to one of the workshops. That had a bathtub with a 2-foot ceiling - which would be perfect for washing the dog if your MIL would let you in her apartment.
We saw another one that was move-in ready -- only needed window coverings. That one had a few remodels done to help update it, was open (which seems to be a side effect of tri-levels), had nice neutral tan paint, hardwood floors, updated kitchen, more closets than we currently have. But a dinky master bath with the sinks in the same room as the bed (no real divider). Priced appropriately. In the middle of random suburbia. But minutes from I-25...
So you'd think with as picky as I am, I should get a house in the "being-built" stage so that I could choose the floor plan and the fixtures. EEEEK! That is way too intimidating too. It's way easier to see what didn't work on something that is already done... I would probably pick out Cowboy paint colors, Southwest tile, Ultra-Modern cabinets and antique Asian cabinet handles all for the kitchen. And I would love each item individually so much that I would believe it would "just work" once it was all together so I wouldn't listen to the advice of the expert. Then I would walk into the finished kitchen and exclaim, "What mess of historical eras and cultures threw up to create this kitchen?!?!"
On the up side, I am probably perfect material for one of those DIY-Network shows where they try to help you find the perfect house. And everyone would have great sympathy for my poor Iggy.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
American Dream
We started looking for a new place last weekend.
Ever since I decided to sell my condo and live in sin by moving in with Iggy, I have wanted to sell his place. Maybe not the nicest start to things (hey, I love you, but we have to sell this dump and move). But it was a little bit of the traditional American love story, the American Dream (if you will) to buy a house *together*...
I was sorta reticent to broach the subject, so I've been slowly fixing up the current place. Sorta to make it part "mine" and part in preparation for showing it. I worry sometimes that we might make it too nice and we'll never get to get a new place together.
Somehow the new house bug hit Iggy hard about 2 weeks ago. He started searching Zillow.com and showing me houses on his iPAD during the evenings. Last weekend he came up with a plan to drive buy 6 or 8 of them and canvas the neighborhoods so we could get a feel for how much our money would get us. It was fun, but strangely exhausting. We covered several distinct areas of Denver and the suburbs (Capitol Hill, Cherry Creek, Lowry, Upper Lo-Do, and a couple I don't know the names of). I had to take a nap when we got home.
This weekend Iggy's real estate buddy drove us around to look at the insides of a few of the homes. Surprisingly some of the houses we looked at last weekend had already sold! I thought this was a tough seller's market. But maybe the economy is picking up after all...
At any rate, the inside of the first one (Lowry) was lovely, peaceful, contemporary...and maybe a little too "suburbia" for me. It felt a lot like every other house on the block This isn't bad. It's just part of the atmosphere.
The second house had strange levels (1 step up into the dining room, 1 step down into the kitchen, 1 step up into the family room, etc) and tile on the entire main level. It backed up to an apartment complex where people seemed to be working on their cars and milling about in the parking lot. And it smelled funny to me. We didn't even look at the upstairs or the basement.
The third house was built in 1899 and within blocks of downtown - walking distance to a couple restaurants we've tried and liked, a cool indie grocery/market/butcher shop, Daz Bog, etc. I could already feel my shift to hipster-wannabe starting. It wasn't much more room than we have now and the yard was mostly deck with a token amount of lawn/grass. The master bedroom had a lofted reading nook accessible only via a ladder. Can't decide if that's cool or I'd only use it under duress. It had an older kitchen, but some updates around the house. The current owners were clearly fans of IKEA based on the furnishings and the $3500 gift card offered at closing. The garage would take a 12-point turn for me to get my Subaru Outback station wagon into. (Definitely getting a smaller, hipper car if we move to this one.) The biggest worry was the staircase to the upstairs. Not sure Radar could make it...it's open and twisty (and cool) and wooden (read: slick for dogs whose back legs aren't so good anymore). Guess I'm not ready to be a hipster quite yet. (sigh)
The 4th house was just north of City Park and close to the city golf course. This means it's close to the zoo and the history museum. I pictured myself with a museum membership and walking over on afternoons to browse thorough the latest Paleontology or Egyptology exhibit. Very chic. Very intellectual. (And even healthy since I'm walking.) But it wasn't within walking distance of the museum. And the neighborhood felt like a ghost town, sterile, and vaguely creepy for being so well-kept and respectable on the outside but having no people present or outside on a Saturday afternoon. It was a pop-top but the added 2nd floor was done in the cheapest, most artificial way (loved the bathroom, but the vent looked like someone punched a hole in the wall and covered it with a grate to camouflage it). There was a strange closet in the kitchen where the microwave was housed. Like a mini-pantry, I guess. The downstairs ceiling was low enough that our 6'3" realtor's head touched the top at points. So much for my snooty intellectual dream.
The last house was in Cherry Creek. It turns out it was within walking distance of 3 coffee shops, a deli, and within 7 blocks you start hitting restaurants regularly listed in 5280 magazine. 7 blocks to the Cherry Creek Mall (and movie theater). The house was maybe 5% bigger than our current one (I was hoping for more space and better closets). But! It had several kick-ass features: a fire pit outside on the patio, a walk-in wine cellar, a wet bar downstairs, an awesome kitchen with high-end appliances and a breakfast bar. The master bedroom had dinky closets but a bathroom almost the size of the bedroom itself. It might be hard to fit our furniture and clothes into this space -- granted I do need to get rid of some of my old stuff, so maybe it's not a terrible challenge. The biggest downside was that it back up to a major street (the front is on another street, but the back is on a street that has traffice 24/7). Can we live with the noise to be within blocks of Cherry Creek, the Cherry Creek Arts Festival, etc?
Who knew the American Dream was so picky? Or maybe that's just me...
Ever since I decided to sell my condo and live in sin by moving in with Iggy, I have wanted to sell his place. Maybe not the nicest start to things (hey, I love you, but we have to sell this dump and move). But it was a little bit of the traditional American love story, the American Dream (if you will) to buy a house *together*...
I was sorta reticent to broach the subject, so I've been slowly fixing up the current place. Sorta to make it part "mine" and part in preparation for showing it. I worry sometimes that we might make it too nice and we'll never get to get a new place together.
Somehow the new house bug hit Iggy hard about 2 weeks ago. He started searching Zillow.com and showing me houses on his iPAD during the evenings. Last weekend he came up with a plan to drive buy 6 or 8 of them and canvas the neighborhoods so we could get a feel for how much our money would get us. It was fun, but strangely exhausting. We covered several distinct areas of Denver and the suburbs (Capitol Hill, Cherry Creek, Lowry, Upper Lo-Do, and a couple I don't know the names of). I had to take a nap when we got home.
This weekend Iggy's real estate buddy drove us around to look at the insides of a few of the homes. Surprisingly some of the houses we looked at last weekend had already sold! I thought this was a tough seller's market. But maybe the economy is picking up after all...
At any rate, the inside of the first one (Lowry) was lovely, peaceful, contemporary...and maybe a little too "suburbia" for me. It felt a lot like every other house on the block This isn't bad. It's just part of the atmosphere.
The second house had strange levels (1 step up into the dining room, 1 step down into the kitchen, 1 step up into the family room, etc) and tile on the entire main level. It backed up to an apartment complex where people seemed to be working on their cars and milling about in the parking lot. And it smelled funny to me. We didn't even look at the upstairs or the basement.
The third house was built in 1899 and within blocks of downtown - walking distance to a couple restaurants we've tried and liked, a cool indie grocery/market/butcher shop, Daz Bog, etc. I could already feel my shift to hipster-wannabe starting. It wasn't much more room than we have now and the yard was mostly deck with a token amount of lawn/grass. The master bedroom had a lofted reading nook accessible only via a ladder. Can't decide if that's cool or I'd only use it under duress. It had an older kitchen, but some updates around the house. The current owners were clearly fans of IKEA based on the furnishings and the $3500 gift card offered at closing. The garage would take a 12-point turn for me to get my Subaru Outback station wagon into. (Definitely getting a smaller, hipper car if we move to this one.) The biggest worry was the staircase to the upstairs. Not sure Radar could make it...it's open and twisty (and cool) and wooden (read: slick for dogs whose back legs aren't so good anymore). Guess I'm not ready to be a hipster quite yet. (sigh)
The 4th house was just north of City Park and close to the city golf course. This means it's close to the zoo and the history museum. I pictured myself with a museum membership and walking over on afternoons to browse thorough the latest Paleontology or Egyptology exhibit. Very chic. Very intellectual. (And even healthy since I'm walking.) But it wasn't within walking distance of the museum. And the neighborhood felt like a ghost town, sterile, and vaguely creepy for being so well-kept and respectable on the outside but having no people present or outside on a Saturday afternoon. It was a pop-top but the added 2nd floor was done in the cheapest, most artificial way (loved the bathroom, but the vent looked like someone punched a hole in the wall and covered it with a grate to camouflage it). There was a strange closet in the kitchen where the microwave was housed. Like a mini-pantry, I guess. The downstairs ceiling was low enough that our 6'3" realtor's head touched the top at points. So much for my snooty intellectual dream.
The last house was in Cherry Creek. It turns out it was within walking distance of 3 coffee shops, a deli, and within 7 blocks you start hitting restaurants regularly listed in 5280 magazine. 7 blocks to the Cherry Creek Mall (and movie theater). The house was maybe 5% bigger than our current one (I was hoping for more space and better closets). But! It had several kick-ass features: a fire pit outside on the patio, a walk-in wine cellar, a wet bar downstairs, an awesome kitchen with high-end appliances and a breakfast bar. The master bedroom had dinky closets but a bathroom almost the size of the bedroom itself. It might be hard to fit our furniture and clothes into this space -- granted I do need to get rid of some of my old stuff, so maybe it's not a terrible challenge. The biggest downside was that it back up to a major street (the front is on another street, but the back is on a street that has traffice 24/7). Can we live with the noise to be within blocks of Cherry Creek, the Cherry Creek Arts Festival, etc?
Who knew the American Dream was so picky? Or maybe that's just me...
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