But all that said, I have to be honest. I have no idea where we'll end up. Yes, we have our joint 'eye' on several properties which are, at the moment, available. But there's no guarantee we'll find anything meeting our criteria when The Red House finally goes. What if buying cash means we end up with a big green house? Downsizing may mean going from something bigger to something smaller, but I think it means more than that. You can downsize your home, try to cram it full of stuff, take your bloated heart with you... it's no use to have less space but not change your thinking, too. And you can stay put and totally transform yourself.
The realtor staged the house. She wanted The Red House to accessorize. She's not trendy enough. I've been sewing for days. I never want to see another throw pillow in my life....
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Monday, February 7, 2011
But why downsize?
So long story short, if I detest my house, why not just buy a different house. Why downsize. Why not just buy a sheetrock box with much less maintenance and call it a day.
Maybe we should. Really, who's to say? Any major decision one makes is a risk. Usually we make big decisions when forced. A birth. A death. The loss of a job. It removes a lot of the angst, really. You accept the change and you shrug your shoulders. Them's the breaks. But when you choose to do something you do not have to do, it becomes a voluntary risk. If things go awry, it's only yourown fault. So there has to be a pretty compellingreason for leaving behind a beautiful house in a wonderful neighborhood when you've been making it work for 5 years. For us, the reasons are several. Some of the reasons are pragmatic and selfish and some of them are lofty and pretty philisophical.
To start, the pragmatic. The amount of money we can save without a house payment, with tiny bills, without the colossal upkeep of such an old home, is quite motivating. Is it a fact of modern life to be mortgaged-and-billed to the teeth? It doesn't have to be, but it is the status quo. What will we do with that money? Save for the house we will grow old in, unless that tiny house somehow becomes the home of our dreams. I'm not sure how likely that is, but you never know. The Master and I have decided that once we reach a certain point in the saving process, we will take a home-saving break and, after saving for it, we will take the children on a Serious Vacation. As in, Europe. The children want to go to Madagascar, but we are still hoping they'll come around. In 8 years of marriage we have taken only 1 vacation aside from visiting family- and that was 3 days in Branson 3 years ago with a free hotel room. Less square footage equals less to clean, less to upkeep. At least in theory...
The Master was initially inspired by this:
http://www.youtube.com/v/SbRvsWuWNUM&autoplay=1
He started asking how small of a house we could live in and still grow our family. I started thinking about that and haven't stopped since. Americans consume. A lot. More, more, more. As the culture in general makes some green moves- organic milk, anyone?- production doesn't slow down. It's ok, right, to buy more as long as it's stainless steel instead of plastic, organic cotton instead of polyester? Everywhere you turn, a new LED display pops up. Liquor stores, schools, churches, everyone seems to need one. Can life be simpler and homes be smaller and people be happy? That's what I want to know. I think the answer is pretty obvious. Because, after all, most people in the world live much smaller than I do.
Sometimes I'm haunted by things... a display at the local nature center says that a pioneer family used as much water in one day as a washing machine does in one cycle. Our orthodontist has an awesome slide show in his waiting room about http://www.charitywater.org/ . Last month as we waited for our appointment, I was mesmerized. When was I last that happy over my basic needs being met? Even many impoverished Americans live in comparative luxury to the rest of the world.
Why has the average American family come to need so much to be happy- heck, even just to function? What do I need to be happy and to raise my family?
Maybe we should. Really, who's to say? Any major decision one makes is a risk. Usually we make big decisions when forced. A birth. A death. The loss of a job. It removes a lot of the angst, really. You accept the change and you shrug your shoulders. Them's the breaks. But when you choose to do something you do not have to do, it becomes a voluntary risk. If things go awry, it's only yourown fault. So there has to be a pretty compellingreason for leaving behind a beautiful house in a wonderful neighborhood when you've been making it work for 5 years. For us, the reasons are several. Some of the reasons are pragmatic and selfish and some of them are lofty and pretty philisophical.
To start, the pragmatic. The amount of money we can save without a house payment, with tiny bills, without the colossal upkeep of such an old home, is quite motivating. Is it a fact of modern life to be mortgaged-and-billed to the teeth? It doesn't have to be, but it is the status quo. What will we do with that money? Save for the house we will grow old in, unless that tiny house somehow becomes the home of our dreams. I'm not sure how likely that is, but you never know. The Master and I have decided that once we reach a certain point in the saving process, we will take a home-saving break and, after saving for it, we will take the children on a Serious Vacation. As in, Europe. The children want to go to Madagascar, but we are still hoping they'll come around. In 8 years of marriage we have taken only 1 vacation aside from visiting family- and that was 3 days in Branson 3 years ago with a free hotel room. Less square footage equals less to clean, less to upkeep. At least in theory...
The Master was initially inspired by this:
http://www.youtube.com/v/SbRvsWuWNUM&autoplay=1
He started asking how small of a house we could live in and still grow our family. I started thinking about that and haven't stopped since. Americans consume. A lot. More, more, more. As the culture in general makes some green moves- organic milk, anyone?- production doesn't slow down. It's ok, right, to buy more as long as it's stainless steel instead of plastic, organic cotton instead of polyester? Everywhere you turn, a new LED display pops up. Liquor stores, schools, churches, everyone seems to need one. Can life be simpler and homes be smaller and people be happy? That's what I want to know. I think the answer is pretty obvious. Because, after all, most people in the world live much smaller than I do.
Sometimes I'm haunted by things... a display at the local nature center says that a pioneer family used as much water in one day as a washing machine does in one cycle. Our orthodontist has an awesome slide show in his waiting room about http://www.charitywater.org/ . Last month as we waited for our appointment, I was mesmerized. When was I last that happy over my basic needs being met? Even many impoverished Americans live in comparative luxury to the rest of the world.
Why has the average American family come to need so much to be happy- heck, even just to function? What do I need to be happy and to raise my family?
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Falling Out of Love with The Red House
The Red House is nestled in a historic neighborhood a block or two away from some vey famous architecture. Frank Lloyd Wright style abounds and Craftsman charm is everywhere. We have a unique set of windows in The Red House with some really beautiful antique brass hardware. There is a tiny problem though: the windows in our home are purely decorative.
We didn't mind at first. After all, she was so grand. All that quarter-sawn oak started to shimmer and shine as the wallpaper came off room by room and the decades of neglect were rerversed.
But those windows... they sit there, in the middle of every wall, appearing to offer protection from the elements and flooding the large rooms with daylight. But… you notice as you sit at the table or lounge in an armchair that the elements are actually passing right through them. Stifling heat, biting cold, and let’s not forget the insects. And the dirt.
Of course, everyone has to sweep. Dirt is part of life. Every house gets dirty. But- The Red House! Like a toddler when you turn your back at the beach, she just eats it in. Lots of it. How does she do it? Every Saturday- er, many Saturdays- between the broom and the Swiffer vac, how many tons of dirt have we hauled out of her in 5 years? It was on a fateful cleaning Saturday in 2010 that The Master and I were attending to the upstairs hallway when our eyes met over a dustpan full of grit. 3 children were fussing downstairs. We had been working for hours and The Red House looked as if we had barely given her a swipe. And we knew. That 7 ounces of muck was it. Other people would spend an hour or 2 putting their home to rights, then would proceed to something like a walk in the park or a matinee with light hearts. But not us. Every time we stopped the cleaning or the patching it was just a pause. The to-do list never ended. Always in the back of our minds were the things we ought to be doing to The Red House. And that’s just when things were going well. Forget about the regular burst pipe, clogged drain, or shake shingles falling like rain.
It was sometime later in 2010 when we got brave enough to say it out loud. The dream we had had as newlyweds of fixing up an old house… it had changed. Not died, but changed. Because the end of this remodel was not in sight, not by a long shot; we were not getting younger nor the family smaller. Family time, time to build block towers and read The Just-So Stories to our children, was not growing more abundant. So we decided we ought to just trade houses, trade mortgages on something lower maintenance. But that didn’t feel quite right. It was many months before the decision to take our equity and bail was really settled. But once it had been, once the realtor came through with her laundry list, The Red House was furious.
First, one pipe burst. The side of the house came off; floors were demolished. And before the dust could settle, a drain clogged. Really clogged. And while that was still a mystery, yet another pipe burst. And 2 phone jacks quit working. You know, just in case we were growing secretly wistful about it…
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Becoming the "Have's"
I have noticed that there are 2 types of thrifty folks and 2 types of downsizers. The first group is the Have-Not's. They don't have enough money, so they downsize, or tighten the budget, or what have you. They are frequently heard talking about what they will do when... their husband gets a better-paying job, the market turns around, the kids graduate from college. It is obviously a painful place to be. It feels like deprivation and it isn't any fun. And yes, we've been there. The Master of the Red House lost his job 11 months after we got married and 1 month before the first Little Blockbuilder was born. On the day he was supposed to be getting a substantial raise. Were we prepared? I should say not. I came across The Tightwad Gazette back then but it didn't help me much. I didn't get it. Life was tough, bills piled up, and only the grace of God and the excellent financial skills of my husband kept us from utter financial ruin. (Can you say "zero percent on balance transfers for 6 months???")
Then there is the other group of thrifty folk who choose to be frugal or downsize or live lightly. For these people, frugality is... fun? OK, maybe not always but it is always a positive challenge. A game. There are fewer shades of self-pity involved in the scrimping and pinching. "How low can you go?" really does get fun at times for these people. These folks don't daydream about spending money "if they had it." They might be very wealthy or very poor, but rarely feel sorry for themselves. They are the Have's. They have everything they need, most of what they want. In the kingdom of tightwaddery, they are kings.
I suppose there was a turning point when we entered the latter group from the former but I'm not sure when it came to pass. I suppose we do owe the old place some credit for it, though. Along the way we saw our meager savings repeatedly eaten up by The Red House and we challenged ourselves to feed her growing appetite for disposable income while managing to keep a few dollars tucked away. As the years passed there was the Grocery Challenge and the Thrift Store Challenge and the Thermostat Challenge- that was a good one. How many degrees can we turn it down with the constant wearing of full suits of long underwear? On days like this:
Then there is the other group of thrifty folk who choose to be frugal or downsize or live lightly. For these people, frugality is... fun? OK, maybe not always but it is always a positive challenge. A game. There are fewer shades of self-pity involved in the scrimping and pinching. "How low can you go?" really does get fun at times for these people. These folks don't daydream about spending money "if they had it." They might be very wealthy or very poor, but rarely feel sorry for themselves. They are the Have's. They have everything they need, most of what they want. In the kingdom of tightwaddery, they are kings.
I suppose there was a turning point when we entered the latter group from the former but I'm not sure when it came to pass. I suppose we do owe the old place some credit for it, though. Along the way we saw our meager savings repeatedly eaten up by The Red House and we challenged ourselves to feed her growing appetite for disposable income while managing to keep a few dollars tucked away. As the years passed there was the Grocery Challenge and the Thrift Store Challenge and the Thermostat Challenge- that was a good one. How many degrees can we turn it down with the constant wearing of full suits of long underwear? On days like this:
only about 2.
We were gaining skills in living below our means. Developing habits that we knew we needed in order to raise a large brood of Little Blockbuilders in The Red Monster.
But as we went, something dreadful was happening below the surface. The relationship we had with her, even on the part of The Master, was changing.
We were falling out of love with The Red House.
Friday, February 4, 2011
The Upbringing of the Grand Red House
So, what's it all about, you ask? Well, I suppose it's about 5 people, saying good-bye to 2,700 square feet of Arts and Crafts-style grandeur. That is 32,400 square inches, every one of which have been scrubbed, sanded, smoothed, or brushed by our own ten hands with love and/ or, not unfrequently, a few curses.
The red house has been our home for 5 years now. 2 babies have been born here; 34 parties have been thrown here; 180 games of Boggle have been played here (every one of which has been won by me, of course); 900 block towers have been built and bombed here; 1,750 meals have been cooked here- 1,748 of which have been devoured and 2 of which had to be given funeral services in a Wal-Mart shopping bag after multiple attempts to overcome the gag relfexes they stimulated; thousands of boo-boos have been healed here; millions of tears have been shed here and double that peals of laughter have bounced off these walls. The red house has, indeed, been a home.
5 years ago when we found her and took her in, the glory of the wayward red house was hidden behind layers of filthy, peeling wallpaper representing every decade of bad taste since her building back in 1922. Hidden behind 1987 brass fittings, cat hair, shag carpet, and enough pine panelling to keep us warm 5 winters. But take her in we did. The initial peeling and scrubbing started right away and lasted three weeks. Sunrise to sunset. After which I cried all day and shrieked that I wanted out! I never wanted to adopt this dinosaur! But alas, it was too late. She was ours.
And over time, she grew on me. My husband was able easier to see the incredible place she would- and did- become. Me, well, I was pregnant and unable to see past the summer heat that brought out the cat-urine smell from the floors. But after a couple years the cat smell faded and slowly she has emerged into a truly stately place. We're proud of her, of course, don't get me wrong. But like a child grown to maturity, we feel she needs to be set free. All 11 rooms and 2 hallways of her.
And this is the story of how we are letting her go. And where we go from here. And why.
The red house has been our home for 5 years now. 2 babies have been born here; 34 parties have been thrown here; 180 games of Boggle have been played here (every one of which has been won by me, of course); 900 block towers have been built and bombed here; 1,750 meals have been cooked here- 1,748 of which have been devoured and 2 of which had to be given funeral services in a Wal-Mart shopping bag after multiple attempts to overcome the gag relfexes they stimulated; thousands of boo-boos have been healed here; millions of tears have been shed here and double that peals of laughter have bounced off these walls. The red house has, indeed, been a home.
5 years ago when we found her and took her in, the glory of the wayward red house was hidden behind layers of filthy, peeling wallpaper representing every decade of bad taste since her building back in 1922. Hidden behind 1987 brass fittings, cat hair, shag carpet, and enough pine panelling to keep us warm 5 winters. But take her in we did. The initial peeling and scrubbing started right away and lasted three weeks. Sunrise to sunset. After which I cried all day and shrieked that I wanted out! I never wanted to adopt this dinosaur! But alas, it was too late. She was ours.
And over time, she grew on me. My husband was able easier to see the incredible place she would- and did- become. Me, well, I was pregnant and unable to see past the summer heat that brought out the cat-urine smell from the floors. But after a couple years the cat smell faded and slowly she has emerged into a truly stately place. We're proud of her, of course, don't get me wrong. But like a child grown to maturity, we feel she needs to be set free. All 11 rooms and 2 hallways of her.
And this is the story of how we are letting her go. And where we go from here. And why.
3 Little Blockbuilders resting against The Red House
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