I bought my home in 1975 and moved in the day after our fourth child was born. My wife and I raised four children in the house, we had parties and holidays and family gatherings. Our oldest two boys turned the third floor bedroom into their domaine. My daughter and youngest son had their own rooms.
The old house, hand built by a plumber who ran his business from the garage, was built in 1929.
Now the old place is up for sale and I’m learning we should not have been happy in the house because of all its shortcomings. It was not adequate, we just didn’t know it.
As prospective buyers wander through we learn the kitchen is too small, there is no bathroom on the first floor, the basement is not finished, there is no master suite, the bathrooms are too small and there is no family room, and oh yes, the deprivation of no walk-in closets, which by the way, did not hamper our ability to accumulate lots of stuff these 44 years.
Wait until a new owner finds the original blueprints in the cabinet over the cellar stairs and learns the second bath was originally a sewing room (closet).
I feel like I’m being roasted on HGTV and have been living in a dirt floor hovel all these years.
In the 1920s the average house was 1500 sf, today in the US a new house averages 2500 sf with fewer people living in them; more room, more stuff to accumulate. We Americans always want more.
Categories: Observations on life