Sunday, December 6, 2009
One bed, one bath.
I'm slightly obsessed with real estate. When the Sunday paper arrives, I like to scour the real estate section just out of curiosity. Whenever I see a "For Sale" sign pointed down a street I've always loved, I take a little detour to do a drive-by. I'm constantly on realtor.com poking around...and really, I don't know why. I love where we live. I love our life and our yard and our home. Which brings me to today's real estate section of the newspaper. Typically there's an article I read that describes in glorious detail the ammmmmmmmaaaaaazing interior and exterior of some gorgeous digs in some scrumptious neighborhood that makes me giggle and wiggle in my chair as I read each and every word. By the end of the article, I'm ready to go to the Home Depot and redesign at least 6 of the rooms in my own happy haven. But today's article was oddly different. It detailed a...gulp...tiny rowhome. I made it past the first paragraph (mostly because the picture attached to the article had the homeowner standing next to her precious chi-chi mix doggie and I had to give it a chance...), and lo and behold, this story moved me. This rowhome story moved me. The house was tiny but the woman who owned it loved it. She took care of it. She made it special and unique - it reflected her and her own lovely quirks. The tiny lawn out front was meticulous with pretty annuals and perennials. The quaint little backyard was a cozy little nook for her and her pooch to enjoy. And that's what struck me. This woman, this amazing, hardworking and humble woman truly enjoyed her tiny little piece of the earth. It was hers. It may have been diminutive but to her it was everything. It was where she laid her head happily at night and knew she was safe and warm. It was where she hung her family pictures and set her pretty Hummels. It was the sacred little home she shared with her rescued tiny mutt. And that was all she needed to be happy. Good for her. And even better for me for reading about it.