Anonymous wrote:I am thankful that I LOVE my house, and the street, and I do have that feeling of being home when I return from somewhere.
Yet I'm sure it's not a house any of you would have chosen. It's tiny, nearly a 100 years old, needed a gut renovation of the ground floor (should also have done the upper floor), and did I say it was tiny? We're four people to one bathroom upstairs. No closets to speak of.
And yet when I saw it on sale, I knew it was for me: it was the right neighborhood, the exact school cluster I wanted, and I feel in love with the crooked roofline. I didn't want a new house. I wanted a quirky house. I decorated it exactly how I wanted, with expensive foreign wallpaper, and tiles and wood carvings I would not have been able to afford had I needed to cover more space.
The moral of this story is that you really have to know yourself and know what will make you happy, and what imperfections you can live with.
So true. So so true. This place doesn’t make me happy at all. It’s very difficult to live here which is maybe why it’s not “home”.
I hope I can find it in the next one. You’re right. I need to know what will make me
Happy.