Jodi Helmer
Everything would be different -- if only I lived in that bungalow; the charming one with the gabled roof, dormer windows and wide front porch. I would throw dinner parties, sit on a leather sofa in front of the fire, bake biscuits in the kitchen, sip sweet tea on the front porch, wear colorful rubber boots to work in the garden and let the dogs run free behind the white picket fence. It's my own house -- too tall, too thin, too little charm and a neighborhood that's not hip enough -- that makes this lust so palpable. Or so I've convinced myself.
I stand under a towering oak tree across the street and stare; I walk past after dark to peer in the lit windows for a better view of the interior; I search real estate websites for virtual tours. All the while, I imagine the life I could have if I lived in one of the picture-perfect bungalows.
Things would be different. Cozier. Better.
"When you covet a house, it's not the house you're after, it's a different version of your life," said Meghan Daum, author of the book Life Would Be Perfect If I Lived in That House. "We trick ourselves into believing that it's our house that's holding us back; if we moved into a new house we'd be a better cook, our relationships would be better, we'd be thinner, we'd entertain more..."
I feel better knowing that I'm not alone in thinking a new house equals a new life.
From the moment I signed on the dotted line to buy this townhouse in 2007, I had plans to sell. Maybe that's why I'm always looking over my shoulder at other houses -- because I've always believed that the house I own now is just a place to live until something better comes along. In fact, each time I think I've eyed the perfect house -- the one I'd cash in retirement accounts and inheritances to own -- I develop a crush on another one.
Even if I'm fortunate enough to own one of the bungalows in my favorite neighborhood, I'm certain that I'll continue to lust after other houses. I'll develop crushes on houses in more desirable neighborhoods with bigger front porches, prettier gardens and more historic appeal. If there is one thing I know about house envy it's that the condition is chronic; the attraction to real estate never stops.
A few months ago, I hatched a plan to move into the perfect house. One evening, while I was walking the dogs, I noticed that one of the little bungalows I loved had a "For Rent" sign in the front yard. I took a flyer and spent the rest of the week trying to figure out how I could move into that house. Once again, I was picturing myself hosting dinner parties, drinking sweet tea on the front porch and wearing rubber boots in the garden. A friend suggested that I rent out my townhouse and move into the little bungalow. It was the perfect solution -- and then I thought about what moving would really mean.
The truth is, I would rather meet friends at a restaurant than entertain; I hate leather furniture almost as much as I hate baking and biscuits; I prefer Diet Coke to sweet tea; and the last time I had a garden, the plants were either overgrown or dead.
While I am waxing poetic about wide front porches and picket fences, I am ignoring all of the things I love about the house I own: It's just the right size; there are French doors in the kitchen that lead to a private patio, an oversized bathtub in the master bedroom and loads of storage space. There are even dormer windows.
Blinded by bungalow lust, I've forgotten one of the most important things about the place I live: It's more than just a house; it's a home.
It's the place where I mourned the end of a marriage and celebrated the thrill of falling in love again. It's the place where I negotiated my first book contract and spent countless hours hunched over a computer in the office to meet the deadline. It's the place where I made Christmas dinner solo for the first time, cutting potatoes and carrots with a dull paring knife and checking the roast 20 times to see if it was cooked. It's the place where I fostered six dogs, doling out rawhides and cleaning up accidents until each one found its forever home. It's the place I retreat to; the place I feel safe.
The house is not perfect. There are no hardwood floors, no built-ins and no picket fence -- but there are memories and each one is far more important than a big front porch and wide wood moldings will ever be.
I know I'll never be cured of house envy. I'll continue to fall in love with a new house on each block but the next time I'm standing under a towering oak tree and peering in the windows of a picture perfect bungalow, imagining what life would be like if I lived there, I'm going to remember that it might be a beautiful house but it's not home.
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Reader comments (Page 1 of 2)
Very nice article, and I'll try to heed your words of wisdom the next time I feel the urge to turn away from my cat pee-stained walls to gaze upon the perfection that is the Kaufmann House or Ben Stiller's Los Angeles compound. I'll tell you what, tho--the minute I win the lottery, I'm MOVING!
ReplyOnce I'm done remodeling my kitchen, Http://www.kitchenremodelingguide.info I'm going to LOVE my own house again!
A new house definitely makes a difference in one's life. I've gone from living in the village with nosy, loud neighbors which kept me inside a lot and no yard, to a big house with a country setting, privacy and a big yard. I'm outdoors all the time and loving life!
ReplyI'm not so sure what the writer is doing is even healthy. She writes that a new house would never be a "home" because there's no memories like there are in her old house. She is looking to hang onto old memories. Remember, when you bought your first house it was all brand new. Zero memories. But through the years you created memories and the house did become a "home". You can make new memories without losing the old ones. That's what life is all about.
Replythe secret here is the fact that when we start out entertaining and seeing children and gchildren often that is what makes it a HOME as everyone gets older those times seem fewer and fewer and that is why we believe a new home might be the answer to get close to those things again. good article though i sure can relate.
ReplyThis is definitely me...I am constantly looking at places I think I would rather live even tho my home is well suited for me. Sometimes I think I want to live on "main street", sometimes by the water, sometimes in the mountains. A small cape cod with a little yard, a picket fence, wrap around porch. Don't know if it is because I like change or am just never satisfied. But I'll probably stay where I am! Nice to know I'm not alone in my dreaming though.
ReplyI sell houses, so you can imagine how many I see, and admire. To me, there is no perfect house, but you have to look for the features that are really important to you. To me it was a formal dining room, and a fireplace. As for the formal dining room, I eat out and dont entertain often anymore, and i have not lit my fireplace in a few years, so there you go. Most important is the energy of the house, which every house has. I have seen some marble mansions that are so impressive, but cold as ice. You can definitely feel the vibes of a house, and it has to feel comfy and homey to you, and you can sense it. So make sure that you feel comfortable in a house - that's prime.
ReplyI'm so glad that I'm not the only one that does this. !! lol
ReplyMy husband and I just purchased our dream home a year ago,against my better judgement, as it is twice the size of our other home. I have been having a difficult time adjusting to this house simpily because it does not feel like home. My husband on the other hand loves the house but, I would give anything to move back to my old home. So as you can see it s true a new home will not forfill all your dreams. We have all the space and privacey we could ask for but for me I would take back my little house any day.
ReplyBigger is not always BETTER. You can feel isolated in a large house, and to me, its scary. My daughter had a mini-mansion, and I truly did not like it, as it was too big. She has moved now, and her husband, strangely enough, said that he felt the same way... too big!
If you love the house so much you ought to marry it. In California you can marry anything. Nothing should step in the way of love and marriage.
ReplyI still have dreams about the big gingerbread Queen Anne 'summer camp' I spent summers in on Wellsley Island, on the St. Lawrence River in upstate NY just a couple miles from Canada. A block from the river, big wraparound porch with rocking chairs to sit in and have morning coffee, flower boxes of petunias, woodburning stove, furnished with bits and pieces of secondhand furniture. Big yard to play badminton. A shed in back to store our bicycles. Lots of rooms smelling of fresh paint, and best of all a big sleeping porch in the upstairs for sleepovers with my cousins. Such wonderful memories. We're all scattered now, the camp has long been sold, and I live in a vinyl clad ricky-ticky in the burbs, but I still dream about that big beautiful white summer palace. My life was better back then!
ReplyI have lived a life of depression. Moved many times. Each time, I thought as the author of this article stated, that my life would change. It didn't. Neighbors were new, but still neighbors. The bills remained the same. The only way to change your life is within yourself. Your brain is like a computer. It needs software updates or program changes, to catch up with lifes revolving doors. Living in the past means you have become stagnant. Unwilling to change, while life moves on without you.
ReplyYou are right .... life is always changing. If you live in the past or future, you are not living in the present, and the present is all we have. Make the most of it.
ReplyFalling in love with an architectural style is one of the silliest things I’ve ever heard of. Don’t people have any clue about house design? People do not understand functional layout, not to mention comfort, energy efficiency, ease of cleaning and maintaining.
ReplyI designed and supervised the construction of my home. I spent a year in planning and doing all of the detailed construction drawings. I oriented the windows to get a view of the oak grove in the back yard through a large picture window. The house is arranged not to have direct summer sunlight come through the windows and cause overheating, yet with a relatively small window area compared to most homes I have excellent distribution of natural light and can read anywhere in any room during daylight. My house is built of aerated autoclaved concrete had can survive hurricanes. It is also energy efficient and very comfortable because the heavy mass of exterior and interior walls keeps the temperature constant. It requires no external maintenance for the first 50 years-no new roof, paint, rotted wood, etc. I would trade it for anything.
All of my water supply piping is in conduit under the slab so I can replace any line in 30 minutes.
You're an idiot
You WOULD or WOULDN'T trade it for anything?
Meant to say I wouldn't trade it for anything.
I would also add that this is not the kind of do it yourself project for everyone. I happen to have experience with industrial projects.
However, I do encourage anyone attempting to build a house to a some good architectural layout book or two.
Thirteen years in our first house. The realtor kept asking why we REALLY wanted to sell, as if there was some deepseeded discontent. I wanted to move away from being on a corner sided and fronted by two very busy streets because I had three little ones. We moved one block away onto a quiet street. Best thing we ever did, quiet, safety, increased value, great yard. We never regretted it.
ReplyNow, after twenty-four years here at this house we loved and it served us so well, we need a retirement house, one floor I think, brick...small yard. I am looking. The last move was so right for us, I am hoping I can find a fit again.
Common sense - need, manageability, cost, nice aesthetics, maybe we could even work in some green features now....I would actually like to build a house because I have so many ideas about what works after owning two houses. Of course, I dread the move itself but have jettisoned much "stuff" in anticipation of changing, it is beginning to feel manageable.
Did you know that to psychologists that the house represents the marriage? I have one friend, a social worker, she swears "big house, no sex." I think that's what psychologists are after, is the move discontent with your life but for some of us it is just a vehicle for the lives that we are already living and liking. There are a million great houses in the world and it is fun to have the opportunity to experience the good ones. I agree with the person who commented about being out in the country surrounded by and enjoying nature. I am in a very urban environment but the great yard we have had has enabled us to have a country-like garden and it has been a godsend and a delight. We see hawks, rabbits, butterflies, dragonflies, hummingbirds, migrating birds, a fox, coyote, deer on our block, it is a thrill.
Yes, the idea that moving to that 'perfect' house will change your life is not a good plan. Working on the things in your life that make you miserable is the key. However, if your architectural taste is a Bungalow on a tree lined street, and thinking about the 3 most important real estate words, Location, Location, Location; then Go for it. Why not be happy and live in an area that you love?
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