We live in a suburb that while far from ideal, isn't awful. We are looking for an income producing property close to or in the city proper. Coincidence brought us across the street from the object of my affection. The multi family we were on the street to see to has all sorts of potential, but at 6-8 weeks pregnant (depending on which of two rousing sexual sessions took) and with a 4 and almost 6 year old to take care of, tackling building projects is probably not a bright idea.
I mentioned to my sweet and helpful realtor that I knew the block because I really liked this house. I didn't mention that I dream of living there, showering in the lavish master bath, having wine on one of the three wrap around decks. So having some time and being game she offered to show me and my crew. Which included my husband who was well aware of my sick attachment to this house but was kind enough not to mention it to the realtor.
Well the actual house surpassed the online photos. It's tricked out (do the kids still use that term?) with all sorts of high end details, moldings and whole closets devoted to wires for electrical systems I couldn't operate even if we had the money to install them! I'm not sure if going inside was a good thing as it means I will be that much more crushed when it goes under contract and we're not the ones moving in.
But with so many people trying desperately to stay in any home, I realize my obsession with a home that has both theater and exercise rooms is more than a little twisted.
Having acknowledged that doesn't justify the inherent shallowness of the situation. And it doesn't mean I want to live in the sea green house any less...