Saturday, April 30, 2011
We've begun the search for a new home. As much as we love the community, the convenience, and the commute that Brookline provides, we simply need more space. Our living room looks like a commercial for brightly colored plastic and our basement looks like we belong on an episode of Hoarders.
So, we have a new Sunday ritual - Open houses.
In reality, I've been frequenting open houses for years. Pre-baby, Matt (begrudgingly) and I (giddily) would drive around the neighborhood and look for "open house" signs. Matt would sit in the car and wait as I would walk through condos and homes. Nobody ever asked, but I had an elaborate story concocted as to why I was hunting alone. (I always hoped someone would inquire so I could tell them my brother was moving to the area but he was way too busy to do the home search. Depending on the price of the home, he was either a doctor or a med student. Yeah, I may be crazy, but when my husband plays poker, he claims to be a writer who lives in the Bahamas. C'mon, have you seen his skin tone?!)
Anyway, I can't think of a better activity for a nut-job like me. I love catching a glimpse into someone else's life. I don't feel guilty or embarrassed for my desire to look through closets (clothing brands, shoe size, mom jeans), check out the contents of the fridge and pantry (I know from Cribs that it tells a lot about a person), and study faces in the pictures around the home. Heck, they advertise the house as open. I'm just following instructions.
But lately, my definition of "open" house has extended past the advertised time frame. I cringe as I admit that I have googled home-owners, I have glanced over LinkedIn resumes, and I swear only once, I friend requested someone on Facebook. I know what you're thinking, but she seemed so cool and we had friends in common! (Alas, she did not accept my request.)
We will be touring 8 properties tomorrow and I am