House Hunting

It wasn't really intentional, it just sort of happened.  One day, my casual, occasional survey of homes for sale in London became a real interest.  I found myself contacting the realtor who helped my friend buy her home and suddenly, casual glances became active house hunting.  How did this even happen?

When I was at the cottage with Glenn in the week leading up to Thanksgiving, I heard the words come out of my mouth that I could conceive of staying in London.  There are good people here and I have an excellent job in my field, even if it is flawed (aren't they all?).  It's very difficult to get meaningful work in the heritage sector right now so I am grateful.  I get good press and I am feeling a level of satisfaction with my work that I didn't necessarily feel in the past.  So, sure, it would be nice to be closer to the cottage and to my mother, but if I can't be, London's okay.  Glenn was pretty stunned to hear me say this and I was surprised, too.  Some time in the last six or eight months, something happened.  Previously, my emotional world turned around Toronto.  I visited over night regularly and thought nothing of killing a weekend in London to be in Toronto.  I have been in Toronto all of two times since April, and not once for an overnight since then.  My world now rotates around London.  I can imagine myself staying here.

So, we come to the question of how do I want to stay?  Do I continue renting?  Personally, I don't have a problem with renting.  I'd like a slightly larger place to live than where we are currently.  I have a lot of art that can't go up on these walls.  I'd like a bit of space in which to entertain.  I'd like to be able to do Hallowe'en for neighbourhood kids and have, you know, kids come to my house because they live nearby, rather than university students coming by and smashing my pumpkins.  Does this mean I want to settle down?  Not quite.  I like the possibility of packing up my family and travelling around the world (cats and all), but I want something more stable.  Something bigger, at any rate.

Glenn is of the opinion that if we are going to get a bigger place and potentially spend more money in rent, then we may as well own the house.  I hear that.  I get it.  But I'm fearful of things like property taxes and home owners' insurance and replacing windows or roofs at my own expense.  There's also my own level of snobbery.  I want a house that I feel reflects my values and my class.  I can live in a working class neighbourhood if the neighbours take pride in their homes, but I want more than a little cottage.  I want a house we can grow into.  I also want a house that is more move-in ready than less.  To me, the point of buying a fixer-upper for less and then spending two years fixing it up, only to sell it again, doesn't make sense.  I don't want to live in a house that needs work or that we're always working on.  The outlay of time and money, though perhaps one I could get back in a future sale, doesn't entice me.  I have a hard enough time keeping my house nice.  Living in perpetual renovations is not appealing.  So, I want a house that is ready to go right now.  Then I realise that to get a house in my financial range, which isn't very high, in a neighbourhood both central AND pleasant, might be tough.

So, we're house hunting and I have patience, but at the same time I find it very frustrating to see a house that I really like, only to discover that there is no way we can swing it.  My credit is bad.  My debts, while not insurmountable, are not good, and I have a hard enough time budgeting.  Is home ownership really appropriate for me?  I have no idea.  I guess I'll find out.

The Sprunging of Spring

It's spring. The world in London, ON is coming to life. Were I in Whitehorse, I'd still have another month to wait before the furry crocuses opened. I admit it, I prefer my spring to come in April. The days are lengthening, there's more sunshine (although a fair bit of wind and rain, yet) and generally, I'm in a better humour.

My flowerpots, sitting neglected on the veranda, still harbouring the skeletal remains of last year's plants, are whispering my name every time I pass them. I will shortly make a pilgrimage to Canadian Tire for potting soil. It's time to rake up the detritus of winter and turn the soil for planting. As I currently have no intention of leaving this apartment, I presume I will return to my role of 'gardener'. Such a grand old house deserves a pretty garden.

Last year taught me a few things about what grows best, so I shall opt for more geraniums, nicotiana, and perhaps regionally appropriate flowers. I won't waste money on impatiens; the western exposure dries them out and I can't be out every afternoon watering them with individual attention. I will look for hardy plants that can handle competition from shrubs and day lilies, but still offer up bright blossoms. Maybe I'll do a drawing and make a bit of a garden plan.

I love the anticipation of what might come.