It was not the ideal house that I had pictured in my head, but when my husband and I strolled up the walkway towards the brick and wood split-level ranch that hot summer afternoon, we turned and looked at one another. I felt tingly and warm – a buzzed feeling – like I feel when I have a little too much to drink.  This was it. Our first house. Even though we hadn’t yet walked through the door, we both knew this was the house that we would buy for our little family. We would live here happily ever after, or for about 5 years, because this was our starter house.

I checked out the house as our real estate broker unlocked the lockbox that hung on the gold entry door knob, which matched the gold lantern attached to the left side of the bronze aluminum storm door. Ah, so much gold. And a storm door! Very 80s. This was 1998 and we were staking our claim in the new post-Olympics Atlanta – a city that could finally boast more than one skyscraper. It was a modern mecca, a subdivision nirvana. And there we were, two progressive, twenty-something creative types with a four year old girl child looking at a house in a neighborhood that looked almost exactly like where the Brady Bunch lived. But at that moment, everything was perfect. Just like that, we were no longer a city-living apartment-dwelling family. We were on our way to moving into a 1976 suburban split-level that still had a rural route for an address.

I quickly took in the landscape. There were dozens of tall pine trees throughout the large yard, manicured hedges, hosta perennials, and pine needle beds that lined the walkway. “Neat” was the word that came to mind. If I wasn’t so overcome by the feel-goods, “work” would have described it instead. The house was not our style, which was funny, because when we gave the broker our requirements for our new home, curiously the style of the house never came up. After the apartment below us was broken into, we were motivated and we just wanted to get out. We simply said we wanted a 3 br/2 ba, great schools, convenient to the highways, with a basement, and not in a subdivison.

When we stepped over the threshold and into our future house, we both released our breath. Thank God it wasn’t another Cat Lady house. The last house our broker showed us smelled of cat piss – could it not with five cats? It was a one level ranch we think with a basement – we never made it downstairs. The small cluttered rooms were filled with cat memorabilia of all kinds – pillows, stuffed animals, porcelain cats, glass cat figurines, macramé hangings with embroidered cats on them. Remember, this was still pre-Internet age, 1998. If Tumblr existed back then, I imagine this Lady Cat Lover would have had a fierce page that included all things cat. That cat house felt claustrophobic and creeped me out. I remember having to leave when I smelled and then saw the litter boxes in the kitchen.

Our future house, the neat split-level ranch, smelled like sunshine and felt open and clean. There was no bric-a brac and hardly any furniture, so we could see exactly how our things would fit. Even with its oak stained molding throughout that the house that my mother would swoon over, carpet was in every room, except appropriately the kitchen and bathrooms.  There wasn’t a basement, but we knew this house was ours, back breaking yard work and all.

It’s now 2014 and our hearts are telling us that it is time to say goodbye. We’ve lived the last 16 years of our lives in this home. Our family has expanded and our kids have grown and thrived in it. Over the years, we’ve painted that oak trim – my mother was horrified– replaced some flooring, a few ceiling fans, lighting, and fixtures. After recovering from DIY burnout, we painted some more, changed a few doors and hardware, fixed plumbing and septic issues, and landscaped, before getting burned out again.

I’ve made my list of things to do to sell the house. It involves more painting, some landscaping, a few more changes in the bathrooms and kitchen, new gutters, and replacing more flooring. We also have to patch some holes here and there. I think we’ve sufficiently recovered from the last DIY blitz and are prepared to do what it takes to get ‘er sold. I also have a list of handy men that can help.

This time, we know more of what we’re looking for in a new home. We’re getting our basement. It’s going to be our style of house in our perfect neighborhood, even if it’s in a subdivision.

photo credit: anneheathen via
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