It's an addiction. I fall in love with houses. Not usually castles or mansions but small, interesting places that tempt me with their history, with a promise to reveal secrets held within their walls. If such a place needs repair, the attraction is exponential. If I suspect it is haunted, I'm hopelessly under its spell. We find each other through a fortuitous glimpse of a photograph in a magazine at the dentist's office, my being lost in the car or a friend's innocent mention of a house they chanced upon. Tall Husband, indulges me in this illness. On weekends he will drive me to see my latest infatuation. He has gone with me to appointments with real estate agents and has comforted me as I sobbed after a lost bid. He even accompanied me on an adventure to Paris in search of a three-storied glass and concrete house designed by a favorite French designer, Philippe Starck.
I am vintage, verging on antique so I am saddened to report that I had never lived in a house I loved, until recently.
Two years ago, we were looking to purchase a place for an allegedly needy uncle who had been long-lost (we now wish he had remained long lost but that is another story.) To continue with this story: It was December, not a great month to be house hunting and our agent had just left for holiday. However, a co-worker whom our agent had asked to assist us in her absence, e-mailed a photo of a charming bungalow. The blurb stated that this was an updated 1920's craftsman bungalow in the Historic Heights. An hour later, Tall Husband and I followed an agent up the generous front porch. With no breeze to propel it, the porch swing was swaying back and forth. When we stepped through the front door, I could feel the magic and I have always believed in magic. The house cat greeted us with a purr as she brushed against our legs. We immediately offered the asking price.
After a miserable year of a resident relative who was abusive to the Bungalow and to us, we asked him to please get lost again. We moved in and now call The Bunny Bungalow home. And the magic is still here.
Drop by later to find out how this house became known as The Bunny Bungalow.
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