Anonymous wrote:Anonymous wrote:Anonymous wrote:I feel similarly. I’ve always loved older homes with a lot of brick and ended up buying a very modern townhouse with high ceilings and big windows. I don’t know how to make it feel homey.
I went along with what my DH wanted. I hate our house. Too big, too modern, not at all cozy. Been here a long time and I think it’s our forever home, which is depressing.
OP here and so did it. It’s old, dark, and not functional. It’s not my style at all either.
Anonymous wrote:Anonymous wrote:Anonymous wrote: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.
PP you replied to. I forgot to add, one tangible thing I noticed when I first visited the empty house was the light distribution. Since the house is small and squarish, and there are windows everywhere, the light comes from all sides. We improved that by doing an open floor plan downstairs - which also made sense given how tiny the space was. Light is very important, since it goes a long way towards making you feel contented and balanced. The side effect is that we don't have much storage space, since all the walls have windows! And paintings have to be placed carefully so as not to fade in the light... anyway. It's interesting to figure out what works and what doesn't for you.
OP here and wow, come you come house hunt with me or be my house therapist?!? You’re so right.
This house is DARK and it kills me. There is one beautiful bright room and come to think it, that room evokes the strongest feeling of “home” for me.

Anonymous wrote:I’ve never felt that way. All my homes have felt like homes, even my rooms in weird group houses and the one awful studio. I lived in for 6 months after grad school. I am good at settling into a place. Arranging furniture, displaying art, organizing the kitchen, buying little touches to make it feel homier.
I can’t imagine it any other way. I’m such a homebody. I love to travel but always look forward to returning home. And even when we move to a better place than the last, I feel a pang of sadness. Home is memories and warmth and … life.
Anonymous wrote:Anonymous wrote:I feel similarly. I’ve always loved older homes with a lot of brick and ended up buying a very modern townhouse with high ceilings and big windows. I don’t know how to make it feel homey.
I went along with what my DH wanted. I hate our house. Too big, too modern, not at all cozy. Been here a long time and I think it’s our forever home, which is depressing.
Anonymous wrote:Anonymous wrote: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.
PP you replied to. I forgot to add, one tangible thing I noticed when I first visited the empty house was the light distribution. Since the house is small and squarish, and there are windows everywhere, the light comes from all sides. We improved that by doing an open floor plan downstairs - which also made sense given how tiny the space was. Light is very important, since it goes a long way towards making you feel contented and balanced. The side effect is that we don't have much storage space, since all the walls have windows! And paintings have to be placed carefully so as not to fade in the light... anyway. It's interesting to figure out what works and what doesn't for you.
Anonymous wrote:I feel similarly. I’ve always loved older homes with a lot of brick and ended up buying a very modern townhouse with high ceilings and big windows. I don’t know how to make it feel homey.
Anonymous wrote: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.