I want to buy a house. I can’t afford to buy a house, but I want to. Additionally, I don’t want to buy one in my current state of residence. I can’t stand the winters here. This change-of-location requirement for ownership just reinforces the fact that I can’t afford to buy a house. Especially not my dream house.
I have been designing and redesigning my dream house for over a decade. In junior high and high school I was sure I wanted to become an architect and would spend random hours with a stack of graph paper drafting designs for my dream house. Since I graduated from high school, secure in the knowledge that architecture wasn’t for me, I have been mentally drafting designs for my dream house. It has seen many incarnations, but the current one is a variation on the Craftsman cottage, with a lot of large windows, beautiful, simple woodwork and two stories. It is located somewhere temperate near an ocean. Either coast is acceptable. I also have a mental design for the interior, complete with memorized paint chips, catalogued furniture options from IKEA, Pottery Barn, and any number of items found in various editions of InStyle HOME magazine. If I had the time or space, I would start a house scrapbook, with pictures, paint chips, cutouts, fabric swatches etc. But I probably shouldn’t feed the obsession.
Part of the problem is I’m tired of living in someone else’s space. I want a space of my own where I can put the overhead lighting where I want, where I can install sconces if I want, or attached shelving. I’m lucky in that my apartment lease allows me to paint, as long as I return it to its pristine and boring white before I move out. But it just isn’t the same. I want a place to settle, to call home, not just a place I live for the moment, where I have to re-evaluate if I want to stay there once a year after which they will raise my rent payment. I want a home to call my own, not just an address.