Up on the top level is a lavish recreation room with a wet bar, so once you take that weekend class in mixology you’re always talking about, you can make elaborate cocktails for your friends that they’ll discreetly pour into a potted plant the second you leave the room.  And finally, outside on the roof deck is – hold onto your hats – a HOT TUB.  I might make the occasional hot tub-related wisecrack, probably involving Cinemax movies I watched late at night as a teenager, but I’m the first to admit that if I had my own hot tub, I’d be in there every single night.

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U Street has become increasingly dominated by huge, luxury high-rises that I can’t afford, so it’s a breath of fresh air to come across an intimate little home like this.  I mean, I can’t afford this place either, but at least it’s cute.  It looks like a house you’d see in the bottom of an aquarium, and you know if it was like thirty years ago, that fence out front would be a picket fence.  It even has a porch!  You could sit out there and talk to your neighbors as they walked by.  (“Thanks for inviting us to the block party, ma’am, but we’re just the HVAC guys from the high-rise next door.”)

Inside, the main level gets amazing natural light.  It’s a fully detached home, and the previous owners took full advantage of this by converting an entire wall of the living room into a massive window.  I’d be tempted to do the same to the opposite wall, and really turn this place into a chamber of sunlight, but if you took out another load-bearing wall, the entire house would probably collapse, which might hurt the resale value.  Further on, the kitchen features a marble waterfall island, high-end stainless steel appliances, and pristine white cabinetry.  (Between the living room’s window-wall and the kitchen’s white cabinets, you’re going to have to open a line of credit just to afford enough cleaning wipes.)  There are also a pair of sliding glass doors that directly access the outside, so if your significant other is ever like, “try this guacamole I made, I put peas in it,” you can immediately walk out and not come home for like three days.  (Trust me, no one will blame you.)

Off the kitchen is the sprawling dining room, which opens via more sliding glass doors onto the back patio.  The patio’s paved with stone and surrounded by a high privacy fence, and there’s a tiny toolshed back here that might pass for an accessory dwelling, depending on how gullible your prospective tenant is.  Upstairs, the second level has deeply burnished hardwood floors, and the master bedroom has a private balcony from which you can see down into at least a dozen nearby backyards, which I bet just thrills you, you pervert.  The master bath features twin basins, a marble countertop, and a really cool mirror framed by seasoned wood, which I would probably not carve my initials into until the second or even third week I lived there.  There’s also a glass-walled shower with a rainfall showerhead, which is hands down my favorite meteorologically-themed bathroom accessory.  (Least favorite:  the lightning toilet.)

Up on the top level is a lavish recreation room with a wet bar, so once you take that weekend class in mixology you’re always talking about, you can make elaborate cocktails for your friends that they’ll discreetly pour into a potted plant the second you leave the room.  And finally, outside on the roof deck is – hold onto your hats – a HOT TUB.  I might make the occasional hot tub-related wisecrack, probably involving Cinemax movies I watched late at night as a teenager, but I’m the first to admit that if I had my own hot tub, I’d be in there every single night.  Have you ever sat in a steaming hot tub on a snowy winter night?  It’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a religious experience, or to starring in my own personal Cinemax movie, which is pretty much the same thing.

1909 12th Street NW
3 Bedrooms, 3.5 Baths
$1,699,900

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All photos courtesy MRIS; listing courtesy Compass, 202-386-6330

The lower level of the home is a big rec room with a wine fridge and a wet bar, so just resign yourself now to hosting every Super Bowl party for the next decade.  There’s also a sauna down here, so instead of hitting the gym and dieting (ugh) for 10 weeks the next time you have to be in a friend’s wedding, you can just wait until the week before and sweat off twenty pounds in here like a high school wrestler making weight.

The lower level of the home is a big rec room with a wine fridge and a wet bar, so just resign yourself now to hosting every Super Bowl party for the next decade.  There’s also a sauna down here, so instead of hitting the gym and dieting (ugh) for 10 weeks the next time you have to be in a friend’s wedding, you can just wait until the week before and sweat off twenty pounds in here like a high school wrestler making weight.

This stunning Mediterranean-style home is fresh new construction, so you don’t have to worry about any ghosts, odors, or finding an old, yellowed note under the floorboards that reads, “these walls consecrated forever to the Prince of Darkness, 1871.”  (Maybe that’s why all your houseplants keep dying?)

This stunning Mediterranean-style home is fresh new construction, so you don’t have to worry about any ghosts, odors, or finding an old, yellowed note under the floorboards that reads, “these walls consecrated forever to the Prince of Darkness, 1871.”  (Maybe that’s why all your houseplants keep dying?)

At the front of the house is a huge bay window with oversized windows, and there’s enough room over here – again, this place is 24 feet wide – to accommodate two or three full living room sets, and maybe up to four, if you’re willing to really cram the furniture in there, and stack it vertically.  (This is a great way to discourage your in-laws from visiting.  “We’d love to have you, but we have four full living room sets stacked vertically all the way up to the ceiling.  We can’t even open the door, we go in and out with a rope ladder we dangle out the window.”)

At the front of the house is a huge bay window with oversized windows, and there’s enough room over here – again, this place is 24 feet wide – to accommodate two or three full living room sets, and maybe up to four, if you’re willing to really cram the furniture in there, and stack it vertically.  (This is a great way to discourage your in-laws from visiting.  “We’d love to have you, but we have four full living room sets stacked vertically all the way up to the ceiling.  We can’t even open the door, we go in and out with a rope ladder we dangle out the window.”)

“Lots of people call their home a “castle,” but then when you go visit them, they have barbecue sauce-stained wall-to-wall carpeting and the living room centerpiece is a PS4 on a milk crate.  This place, though, is legitimately castle-like.  It’s at the top of a literal tower, for starters;  you could hold off an invasion for weeks from up here, assuming you had plenty of arrows, and that the barbarians were too stupid to just go on in the front door there.”

“Lots of people call their home a “castle,” but then when you go visit them, they have barbecue sauce-stained wall-to-wall carpeting and the living room centerpiece is a PS4 on a milk crate.  This place, though, is legitimately castle-like.  It’s at the top of a literal tower, for starters;  you could hold off an invasion for weeks from up here, assuming you had plenty of arrows, and that the barbarians were too stupid to just go on in the front door there.”

“I don’t usually use “squat” as a compliment, but I really like this squat Bloomingdale rowhouse.  Rowhouses aren’t typically what you’d describe as dainty anyway, but this one seems simultaneously squat and graceful, like one of those Crossfit girls with massive barrel-sized thighs.” 

“I don’t usually use “squat” as a compliment, but I really like this squat Bloomingdale rowhouse.  Rowhouses aren’t typically what you’d describe as dainty anyway, but this one seems simultaneously squat and graceful, like one of those Crossfit girls with massive barrel-sized thighs.” 

“This amazing modernist home was designed by Winthrop Faulkner, a name that’ll raise eyebrows at a cocktail party even among people who have no idea who he is.  That name just sounds distinguished.  It’s the name of a man who wears linen suits and will tell you to your face that you’re not good enough to date his daughter.  This house he’s designed (originally for a labor organizer) is a passive solar home, which means that it gets electricity from the sun and that when you ask where it wants to eat, it’ll say “I don’t care,” but then complain about wherever you pick.”

“This amazing modernist home was designed by Winthrop Faulkner, a name that’ll raise eyebrows at a cocktail party even among people who have no idea who he is.  That name just sounds distinguished.  It’s the name of a man who wears linen suits and will tell you to your face that you’re not good enough to date his daughter.  This house he’s designed (originally for a labor organizer) is a passive solar home, which means that it gets electricity from the sun and that when you ask where it wants to eat, it’ll say “I don’t care,” but then complain about wherever you pick.”