Is Your House in Order?

I never expected finding a house to be a simple task, full stop. But I was unprepared for the deluge of paper that follows applying for a mortgage, deciphering the crypto-speak on the seller's disclosures, the frustration toward the seller who decides that "today is just not a good day" to look at their house that has been on the market for over a year, the sheer disappointment when you actually arrive at the house that looked so promising in the pictures only to discover that there is something really weird or unacceptable.

Let's talk about the weird or unacceptable. I decided to come to this process with an open mind. Initially, I thought I only wanted one style of house...but then I realized that style of house is usually only found in city neighborhoods and city neighborhoods mean that I am too close to my neighbor. Living in apartments for as long as I have has developed in me a strong and certain desire for a buffer zone. I have compromised on the acreage in the country...but that's as far as it goes. So the lesson here is that pretty much any style will do. I won't not consider a house because it's not a craftsman style bungalow.

But just because I am open minded doesn't mean that I will consider any four walls. If I drive up to a house that is, say brick face, and there is a big patch of vinyl siding in the middle of that brick, that's weird. That patch of vinyl in the middle of the brick is jarring to the eye. It's like when I notice a stain on someone's shirt. I can't not see it; I wonder if the person realizes it's there; I wonder if they are ignoring it or if they don't care. Then I wonder if they don't care, why don't they care?

So there is this patch of vinyl on the front of the house, note to self: something I have to fix. The inside of the house looks well cared for. The family room has been redone rather nicely, they clearly sprang for many expensive options in here like the stone fireplace and the flag stone apron around the fireplace. Then there is the custom built media cabinet that is really lovely and has a closet behind it so you can keep the wires from the equipment stowed and organized. That was well done. And there is the cedar bead-board on the ceiling to deaden noise, it looks terrific and it is a nice touch. But what about that patch of vinyl out front?

We move on to the sun room. Hinky thing number 2. What is up with these walls? They are some kind of composite material used in bathrooms for the insides of showers. The walls move when I press them. Crap this is no good. What's this behind the couch, dirt? From when water leaks in, dries up and leaves sand behind? No, no, no, this won't do. And what's that you say? There is a basement? Some owner of this house hollowed out the crawl space and put a second kitchen near the sump pump? No, a thousand times, no! I am holding the line against weird and unacceptable.

And then there is the cesspool of childhood issues that were never resolved percolating just beneath the surface of your public-facing persona. I always knew that I would be wary of a house with a wet basement. Many an argument ignited between my parents because of our soaking wet basement. And then there was the shame surrounding the fact that I lived in a house with a soaking wet basement. Somehow, my parents were not like the other parents who had managed to avoid buying a house with a soaking wet basement. They always claimed that the seller never told them about it. Things that were stored in the basement always had a funny smell (now identified as mildew) and even though my mother valiantly tried to make that room livable, there would always be a flood. Sometimes it was minor dampness that would soak up through the carpet. Other times, like the time when I graduated from college, the sump pump failed and 2 inches of water soaked the entire basement. Somewhere there is a video my mother took of my father sweeping the water back into the sump pump basin with a big squeegee. When he realized he was being taped, he lost his composure and hissed at her, "Why do you want to record this misery?" Yes, why record it? That basement is as much a part of me as my size 10 feet.

That memory follows me to every house I visit. If it's not a damp basement, it's an errant patch of vinyl or a shabby second kitchen hewn out of a crawl space next to a sump pump. If a house is a reflection on its owner, then what do I want a house to say about me? Order on the outside reflects order on the inside? No inadequacies to see here, move along. The people who live in this house have no issues with alienation or personality disorders, are not grappling with professional failures, they don't live with persistent irrational fears that hamper their personal and professional development. The people who live in this house have their act together, they get along with their family, their pets are continent, and their basement is dry.