… 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.
… 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.”)
… If I go to a $3 million Georgetown rowhome, I’m usually thinking, “sure, this is really nice, but on a fundamental level, it’s basically the house I live in minus wall-to-wall carpeting, black mold, lead paint, and a huge hole in the shower wall with a trash bag duct taped over it.” Which is true, as far as that goes. But once in a while, I see a place that’s unique enough that I actually do start to covet it, sometimes quite intensely, which leads me down a spiral that starts with googling “am i too old to go to law school,” and then three or four beers later, “how much prison time do you get for bank robbery.”
… “You enter into a bright, high-ceilinged foyer; there’s a sitting room right there that has a massive picture window looking out onto the street, so you’ll have plenty of time to consult your Big Book o’ Excuses when you see neighborhood kids selling fundraising candy bars coming up your front walk. (I always go with, “I don’t actually live here, I’m a burglar.”)”
… “Inside, the entry level living room is sprawling and bright, and opens onto the outdoor patio, so if your teenager comes downstairs one night to show you a brochure for the expensive art college he wants to go to where they don’t give grades or degrees, you can take the brochure, walk outside, and throw it over the hedge into the neighbor’s firepit.”
… “Places like this do kind of throw me off though, because they are obtainable. Even if I couldn’t get a mortgage (and I definitely couldn’t get a mortgage – when my landlord checked my credit, he said “it literally could not be worse”), I could probably beg and guilt various wealthy friends and family members and get the money together. Nice, affordable apartments actually make me sweaty and nervous, like when the married couples in your social circle maneuvers you into a cab with the only other single person in your group.”