Whirlwind

When I bought this house it was an intense, find a house in 3 weeks situation, because my giant suburban house was sold and I was approaching the time when I would not have a place to live. Of course there were options but I haven't rented in years and wasn't terribly interested in bunking with in-laws, stuff in storage and soon-to-be-ex husband in the next room. So I went for fast house buying. Since it was about the seventh house I've bought I figured it would be all right.

And it was! I live in the most wonderful neighborhood in the world, within walking distance of a bustling historical village full of shops and restaurants. My neighbors are among my close friends, and the kids have a great time running around in packs. And the house itself is great in many ways, but has a few not-so-great features that I suspected going in. Anyway, for the past few weeks or so I've been thinking about the fact that I don't really use a good portion of my house, and am paying quite a lot for the privilege of having unused space. Downsizing started to sound like a good idea. I'm all about the gathering information, so I started talking to my realtor friend/neighbor about the possibilities. We decided to look around a bit, to see if maybe there were homes that could fit what I wanted. I talked to the boys a bit, telling them what I was thinking about, that maybe it would be a good idea to really take our time and look for a house that fits our needs in every way, rather than just some ways. They were in, because they are always in for pretty much anything. Hazel concurred as well.

So two days ago my realtor friend and I went on a survey of homes in the neighborhood I've loved since the first round of living in Milwaukee (Washington Heights, for those of you who are or have been here). Some cute options, mostly bungalows, definitely smaller than my house, but many possibilities. Then we arrived at a house on the main boulevard, the tree-lined boulevard of beauty and flower beds. Then we walked up onto its wide front porch (it's my goal to bring southern front porch hanging out to the upper midwest). Then we walked into the National Register of Historic Places sign. Then we walked into the carved-wood-adorned living room and dining room. And by carved wood I mean lions, dudes playing flutes, and maybe even a curvy chick or two. Then we walked into the sunny bright sunroom with a comfy couch and breakfast table. Then we walked into the beautiful kitchen. Then we walked into the two boys' bedrooms, and the amazing bathroom between them. Then we went upstairs and the heavens actually parted and rained down unicorns and puppies upon us, because the entire upstairs was a suite of fantastic awesomeness, with a bathroom that only angels and possibly also Aphrodite could shit in. And from this attic urban paradise we could see the backyard of bigger and more regular proportions than my current one. We could also see the top of the garage, which is buried into the side of the hill upon which the house perches. When we went down into the basement we discovered......

A SECRET TUNNEL THAT CONNECTS THE HOUSE TO THE GARAGE!

A fucking secret tunnel, is there anything that could be cooler or more awesome than that? Aside from a sandwich made of peanut butter and bananas? The answer is no, there is not. It is not possible for a house to be cooler than a secret tunnel house unless it has a secret hidden staircase (I may or may have not had an obsession a brief period of Anne Frank love as a teen young child). And of course that usually goes along with oppressive and genocidal regimes so that mitigates the coolness quite a bit. At any rate, A SECRET TUNNEL!!!11!!!1!!

So I put an offer on the house after much internal debate for ten minutes. And it appears that they have accepted the offer. Now my house goes up for sale, in the hopes that I can sell it quickly and get to live in the awesome house of spanktastically awesome awesomeness. Unfortunately finals and other events conspire against me and it will be a few weeks before I can list it, but that's all right because the basement is torn apart from an unfortunate flooding incident and also my downstairs bathroom is a piece of shit. My upstairs one is too, but the tile guys are here as we speak tearing out some unfortunate mauve tile. Butt cracks abound.