Saturday, May 5, 2012

I'll Know When I See It

Oh look at that one! It's great. Well, except for the smell, and that whole thing going on with the one wall there and there's a window that's leaking. But it's great, right?!

Note the edge of desperation. Possibly it's because I've been thinking about dating a lot lately. That sounds wrong. I'm not thinking of me currently dating anyone except my husband. Although, it has been said of us that we do still act like we're dating. I'll take that as a compliment. I'm working on a project. It's a project about projects, in a way, so my dating life has been shuffled around to the forefront of the rummage sale in my head.

Possibly it's because I've been thinking about dating a lot lately, but I'm feeling a little desperate. That also sounds wrong. I'm desperate, but I wasn't particularly desperate while I was dating. Most of the time. But right now, this thing I've been feeling lately, reminds me of the time that maybe once or twice I did feel like that.

We're looking for a house. It feels like everyone around us is happily pairing up with their perfect houses and living their perfect lives and we're the ugly kids on the edge of the dance. We finally work up our confidence to go over and make an offer on one, with our sweaty palms and our shaky knees and our tiny earnest money and just as we're about to get there, someone dashing and confident and gorgeous steps in front of us and takes it. Oh well, we say. They probably would have said no anyway.

I look at houses and I think "Oh, this one is handsome, but not my type. The roof also appears to be a little leaky."

I look at other houses and I think "I'm in the wrong place. They will never accept me."

I look at still other houses and I think "If I could change this, this, and this... then maybe I could live with it."

And the most humiliating of all, well-meaning people say "Oh, what about this one? I think it would be perfect!" and I look and I cry. Because it's under a bridge, or the bathroom is caving in, or it reeks of cat food and old lady and I think someone died there and was eaten by cats. Or because it seems perfectly fine on the surface and then you look deeper and the 147 Marilyn Monroe posters in the basement are covering some serious mold. And then I cry. I cry because I don't feel like I deserve a nice house, that my expectations are too high, that I should accept my lot in life and be grateful for the mold and the Marilyn Monroe posters and the corpse and the cat pee smell.

People who have done this before smile smugly and nod while they glance around their own cat-pee free houses and say "Don't worry, honey. It will be your turn. When you find the right one, you'll just know." And I hate them for that because I know that they are right, but I am tired and I am hungry and my clothes smell like the living of dozens of other people because I've traipsed through their lives and looked in their cupboards and in the dark places where no one goes - the furnace room, the basement, the garage, some showers. I've looked at the hopeful pipes and utility closets and "cozy eat-in kitchens" of strangers who have gussied and styled and preened, all with their own scent of desperation and I have found them wanting. I hate them and I'm tired. I hear myself saying the dreaded words "Maybe we'll just go live in the suburbs. Maybe we should just settle."

I'm not asking for much. I'm just asking for perfect. But you don't understand. "Perfect" for me is flawed and quirky and wonderful and strange. I don't need the flashiest, the showiest, the latest craze, the most stylish. I just need right for me. I have standards you couldn't possibly understand. I just know I'll know when I see it. 

16 comments:

  1. You WILL know. And when the roof looks a little leaky, you won't care. OK, you will care but it won't matter because you'll just know. You'll know when you've walked 2 steps inside the front door and you get a sense of the energy of the place that this is the place where Lou and Lou and jBird and the Hooligan belong.

    ReplyDelete
  2. We looked at bunch of really horrible houses before we found this one, but the moment--the very moment, I swear--we walked in the door here, we both knew. We were home.

    We saw houses with kitchens so tiny you had to shimmy against the fridge to squeeze past and get out the back door. Some were so dirty I was sure I'd never get the funk out of my mind, even if I were able to Simple Green it out of the house. One had bright red carpeting EVERYWHERE and gold trim all over (snazzy!).

    Hang tight. Your house is out there. And yep, you'll know it when you see it.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Perhaps your guide hasn't taken you to the proper dimension. Of they only knew and understood you as a customer, then they would have also understood to turn the combination tumblers on life three degrees due More Soul Expansion, and two degrees away from Full On Aromatic Residue. It seems your guide needs direction re: your particular North Star.

    ReplyDelete
  4. *hug*

    One of the houses we went through recently called a toilet in the corner of the basement and capped pipes that could *potentially* be a shower a "second bathroom". There were no walls around it.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Our first house was a shack that had tiny shacks tacked on to it to make a warren den of a home. It was weird and awkward and we could afford it and we loved it. This house we are in now, well, I cried a lot the night we moved in. It was dirty and gross and how could I have ever thought I could but my dishes in the disgusting cupboards.... Almost 9 years later, I love my house. It's not perfect but it fits us. We've only looked at two houses, and we bought them both. I think no one else wanted them!

    ReplyDelete
  6. The comparison to dating is so apt. As a former realtor, I've seen the light come on in people's eyes when they know. And I've felt the knowing, also, when I see a certain slant of light in a house I decide to buy. (apologies to Emily.D.)

    ReplyDelete
  7. Oh, I know exactly how you feel. Each time we've found a home (condo, first house, current house), it has been a long and trying process. We went through dozens of places that were all wrong for us, then the moment we walked into each of our homes we just knew it was the right one. The same will happen for you, but it is such a long, stressful process- and mentally and emotionally exhausting. The good news (for me) is that you will have recently been through the house-hunting phase in Seattle and will be able to give me tips should we have to move there next year:)

    ReplyDelete
  8. It *is* like dating, and you will know. It's an exhausting, painful search. You will meet the one, TL. Promise. Keep your eyes and heart open and much like dating, do *not* settle where your red flags fly.

    ReplyDelete
  9. You will know! Thank you for reminding me how lucky we were to walk into the first house we viewed and get that feeling. I am not sure we will ever move unless we have to.

    I can relate in some small way; I am currently having that extreemly stressful and desperate search for hair accessories. I have been searching for six months and the wedding I need it/them for is in less than two weeks. Like you I have a very specific and quirky idea of what I want and no amount of 'I saw some lovely ones at.....' from people is helping!

    I hope we both find 'the one' and SOON!

    ReplyDelete
  10. Ohhh, I feel your pain. Although, I am married to the house we have now... divorce would cost too much! You will find the right house... one you know is home. Wishing you the best of luck and lots of patience. Searching is such a roller coaster ride.

    ReplyDelete
  11. I too, am married to the house we own right now -- we have been here 26 years and I have no intention of ever leaving. It wasn't love at first glance for me but it was for RR. I was just happy to get out of the country and get into town. Over the years though, I have developed true love with this Murphy Ave Victorian (at least half of it is Victorian ish) -- It is quirky and has undergone enough change over 26 years to make it my real love. I never want to move.

    ReplyDelete
  12. I swore I'd never buy the split-level home design that is so popular here. I HATED them. My brother and his ex had bought one, several of my friends had them, they were in every neighborhood. Then, we walked into this one and I knew. My husband didn't, but when I went into the kitchen and almost cried, I couldn't deny it.
    I love the dating analogy. We have a home on our block that sticks out because it is so much nicer than all the others. Sort of the cheerleader hanging out with the nerdy crowd.

    ReplyDelete
  13. Hang in there, TL! It will all be worth it!

    ReplyDelete
  14. Courage, my dear! Your quest will end. You will find your castle.

    ReplyDelete
  15. Everything is like this for me. Either it is so perfect that I neither deserve or can afford it, or it is so imperfect that I cannot bear to settle for it. I waste hours of my life window shopping between idealism and despair. So I tend to just leap and accept things. Make do with odd situations in order to avoid this discomfort. I am glad you are not. Keep the faith.

    ReplyDelete
  16. The issue of the perfectly imperfect house hits very close to home (heh) for me. Due to financial constraints, we are currently in a place that my husband had high hopes for as a fixer-upper with "great bones" blah-blah-blah that I felt completely the opposite about. If there is potential here, the amount of money it would take to fulfill it, is definitely not in our budget in the foreseeable future. We have been here a year and while it's not as bad as I'd feared it might be, it's still not great. I'm familiar with all those sayings about a house just being a house and that it's family or heart or whatever that makes a home, but...I sure would like a house that increases rather than detracts from that homey feeling.

    Hope your search has a happy ending soon.

    ReplyDelete

Thanks for reading and taking the time to say hello!