Alfonse and I fell in love with this house at first sight.
So much so, our father looked at us when we got back to the rented time share that day and said “ok, settle down now”. He also didnt appreciate hearing that John had said in front of the realtor “Kathy we can put our Christmas tree right here”. I imagine in real estate sales training, they teach them to get people envisioning their Christmas tree in the house, then you’ve got them in the palm of your hand. And we were, John and I, resting like two little eggs right in the nest she was holding.
My Dad, although he tried to hide it and play hardball, got infected the next day with the same enchantment and made an offer on it. It was ours the day after that.
Three bedrooms, three baths, gorgeous views everywhere, great location and about 50K less than the range we were looking. It couldn’t have been more perfect for us and we all knew it.
I had a similar sense when I bought my current townhouse in Tempe, also the first day I went out looking. I remember Burton my realtor saying “Kathy if you don’t buy this house, I am. After selling real estate in Tempe for 20 years, I’ve not seen a better deal”. i made an offer and it was accepted the same day.
In both of these cases, there was another offer on the table yet the seller chose us. John and I found out last weekend from the builder, one of the investors of this property who we purchased it from and who just happens to be our neighbor, that they chose us because “those other people were really cranky”.
I then give the credit for this purchase, again, to Alfonse. He saw the (not listed on MLS) sign, he shopped for all the furniture we needed to purchase and the rest is filled with his furnishings from Illinois that I documented in a post here called “unboxed” that I’d be linking if I wasn’t pecking this out on my iPad that’s driving me crazy. Please pardon the lack of flair in this post for that reason by the way.
Alfonse is so rarely cranky. His illness is a full bastard at times but John is typically sweet natured and friendly. Always has been.
Im up here by myself for the first time this weekend. I was wandering and pondering last night and sort of in awe at how naturally comfortable I feel here already. Nothing on the walls, no window treatments so it’s a fishbowl at night, still some boxes not unpacked, lots to do yet. But I feel so right at home here.
I feel confident saying its just about the opposite of how I felt, shockingly, when I moved in to my Tempe townhome. It took me about a year to get comfortable there, inexplicably. Sometimes I think we’re after 13 years only staying together for the children. And when I say that I mean my Master bath. I designed and remodeled that sucker to almost a spa like retreat. Picked out a large deep tub, popped out a wall, did all the tile work myself, including the mosaic step up to the tub. And I’d never tiled before. I’ll share pics when I get home and off this hunt and peck contraption. To me my bath area is a jewel box. But not a good reason to stay together, yet enough. Moving is a bitch.
Last night I took my first soak though in this master bath and thought, ok yeah, this is worth cheating on my master bathtub for.
I saw that huge full moon rise up from that panoramic window, sipping my Malbec and stretched out. And I have to admit I felt 100% like I belonged right there.
The first time John and I got in here after the sale was final, he stood in the living room and said “Kathy one day were gonna be two old people pushing each other around in a wheelchair in this house”.
I rarely sleep well the first night in Sedona. That’s been going on for the 30 or so years I’ve been coming here. So last night at 3am I found myself on the upstairs balcony, the one off Alfonse’ bedroom, the Master, sharing some silence and some moon time with the crickets.
I had this strong feeling that I might die in this house after creating many memories here. That we all might. It was such a poignant and melancholy feeling.
We all have to be somewhere, right? I’d just never had that kind of foreshadowing before.
I sincerely hope I’m the last one standing. I will write more about this notion later when I have more time and an adequate keyboard. But it’s a deep well to fall in realizing you very likely will be the last one standing of your lineage, your bloodline, ever. But that’s another topic.
I need to go about assembling a leather recliner and continue falling in love.