The house that roared

I’m still here.

***

So, you might know that J-P and I are on the verge of our next big what-are-we-doing-with-our-lives decision. My job in Nashville ends in early September, and we have to figure out what we’re doing and where we’re going next. There are a lot of variables in play, but one of them, believe it or not, is our house.

J-P and I love our house, as in seriously L-U-V LUV our house. And if you’ve ever seen it, you understand why. It’s old, built in 1899, and super cute. Though it was renovated at some point in the last decade or so, the renovators did a great job, maintaining much of the house’s old character. It’s got a beautiful front porch, high ceilings, three fireplaces, a spacious kitchen, and a great deck out back. And our landlords are fabulous. They’re two middle-aged guys living in California who’ve decided to retire to Nashville at some undetermined point in the future. They’re friendly, responsive, and thoughtful.

Even though we’re renters, we love this place as though it were our own. In the summer, we’ll sit outside on the deck with a few gin and tonics and play rousing games of what-would-we-do-if-we-owned-the-place-and-money-were-no-object. (Quick answers: finish the attic to add another bedroom and bath, re-landscape the backyard, put in new kitchen cabinets and countertops.)

After lots of discussion, we had pretty much decided that, if we found jobs here (mostly meaning, if J-P found a job here other than the temporary contract work he’s been doing on and off for the past two years), we would stay. If we stayed, we would ask our landlords if they were interested in selling. (Not that we were holding out too much hope for that – it felt like wishful thinking more than anything.) And, if they were interested in selling, we would buy.

But the jobs just aren’t here. And so, we put this idea in the back of our minds, focusing on Plans B, C, and D.

Fast forward to last night: our landlords were in town visiting. They wanted to come by to meet us in person and see the house. (I guess that might seem weird, but we had always had very nice conversations with them on the phone, so it seemed only natural.) They were lovely, and we spent a nice hour or two chatting over a bottle of wine and cheese and crackers.

At some point, one of them said, with a tone that was sort of joking, but maybe not totally joking, that the house could be ours for a really good price. And then, later, he said it AGAIN in the same only-half-joking way. Which makes me think they weren’t totally joking. Maybe the economy is taking its toll on them – one was recently laid off – or maybe they are reconsidering what seems like the somewhat impetuous decision to relocate from San Francisco to Nashville. But it seems that there’s a decent chance that, if we wanted the house, it could be ours.

I know we can’t make a decision like this because of something so ephemeral as real estate. There are so many other important considerations – jobs, family, jobs, friends, lifestyle, and, oh yeah, JOBS, just to name a few. But wow, the full weight of a possibility that has suddenly become real hit J-P and me both with the force of a locomotive last night.

So it seems Plan A is back on the table, at least for now, if only because it's fun to think about.