Silver Linings

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Still no house. And we’ve now officially eliminated Midland from our list of possible towns to buy in.

In other real estate news, there are no houses in Elmvale — the one location we agree on — that we both love. Ugh.

But even as JF and I continue to plod through real estate hell (at least we’re in it together!) there remains much to be grateful for. Unemployment has its perks:

  • Sitting comfortably on a TTC train, travelling opposite the rush hour crush
  • Reading a whole book in one day
  • Playing the piano loudly in the afternoon without worrying about neighbours
  • Staying in on rainy days to watch movies
  • Going out on sunny days to explore
  • Listening to CBC radio in the middle of the afternoon
  • Doing groceries at off peak hours
  • Wearing jeans or sweatpants every single day
  • Forgetting what day of the week it is

And that’s just the list I compiled these last two weeks. I feel like I’ve more everyday pleasures to discover.

 

I also have a list of things I would like to do this summer, assuming I don’t find work:

This is me at the 9th concession beach two years ago. I hope to do a lot of this next month.

This is me at the 9th concession beach two years ago. I hope to do a lot of this next month.

Much as I want an income, miss my old colleagues and crave routine, this whole no job thing isn’t so bad. You should try it sometime.

House Hunting — Not for the Faint of Heart

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Holy. Choosing a house is hard.

Our quest for the perfect home has now spanned four weeks, bazillions of google street view searches, and at least 25 in-person showings across about a dozen towns. Tobias has been earning his keep.

With guidance from our trusty real estate agent, we have bravely picked through yards strewn with debris, held our breath through homes that reek of cat pee, ducked into dark crawlspaces, and faced angry barking dogs.

Lately I’ve been spending more time with my new friend realtor.ca than with any of my human friends. Or JF, for that matter.

Remember our tale of two houses? Well, multiply that by three. We have:

–       The pretty house in Elmvale that’s too expensive (my Elmvale house from post 2)

–       The four floor, six bedroom mansion in Midland that’s too big

–       The lovely home in Coldwater that’s too far

–       The run-down house in Elmvale that has potential (JF’s Elmvale house from post 2)

–       The farmhouse in Hillsdale that doesn’t have a working kitchen or insulation

–       The expensive Midland house with good resale value, but only two bedrooms

This house has six bedrooms, four floors, and a butler's staircase. Crazytown.

This house has six bedrooms, four floors, and a butler’s staircase. Crazytown.

None of these houses are perfect. Not a single one.  And we have come within inches of making offers on them all.

This whole thing is rather complicated because much as JF and I have a similar vision for our future lifestyle, we can’t seem to agree on two important things: location and house style. I favour Midland and red brick victorians. He wants Horseshoe Valley Road and a “well maintained old person’s house” (his words). We may as well want different continents.

Woe is me.

What I’m trying to focus on tonight is this: whatever house we choose, we will make it a great home. We will love it, live in it, beautify it, host dinner parties in it, and be happy. Because that’s just our M.O.

But golly, do I ever wish we would get to the finish line, already.

Day Four of Unemployment

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This is my fourth day of unemployment and people keep asking me how it feels. There is no straight answer, but I’ll give it a shot.

Most of the time, I feel a sort of righteous freedom. A bit like this:

But even in these early days, every once in awhile I find myself wading through a quagmire of self-pity. Like this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p3KoJj4dz2I

On the one hand, I have all the time I need to write, paint, or learn to play canasta. Or at least I should — so far it’s been kind of hectic. On the other hand, I have no income. And because work is important to me, I currently feel a bit rudderless.

I’m realizing that doubt and leaps of faith are a package deal.

Until last Friday, I had the privilege of working for a fantastic non-profit filled with lovely people. When I handed in my letter of resignation, I knew I was leaving a damn good thing. But that didn’t make actually walking out the office doors, boxes in tow, any easier.

Sometimes when I contemplate unemployment, all my brain can think is “holy fuuuuuuudge!” Except I don’t say fudge.

When that happens, I force myself to remember two things:

1)   I left because I’m chasing a simpler, quieter life

2)   So few people have the privilege of self-imposed unemployment

This time between jobs is a rare opportunity. To ride the TTC in the middle of the afternoon, read a hundred romance novels, and focus on what I really want from my life.

So, in the words of Joanna King (my heroine, who picked up and moved to her hometown in Newfoundland a few years back), my “job” is to enjoy it.

Easier said than done, but I’m working on it.

A Nu Start

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About a week ago, a miracle occurred. JF, the most cautious and indecisive man I know, bought a car over his lunch hour.

I guess it wasn’t exactly an impulse buy. He’d been thinking about buying a Honda Fit for two years. He’d compared their re-sale value, fuel efficiency, and many other car features (clearly, I am a car expert) against several comparable options in massive spreadsheets.

But still, the fact that he was able to test drive a car and offer a down payment in the span of an hour has my mind totally boggled. It was incredibly out of character, in a good way.

Most endearingly of all, he bought the car for me. I’m one lucky lady.

Tobias and I, out on the town.

Tobias and I, out on the town.

I’m not surprised that JF would buy me a car. Neither is anyone who knows JF well. The whole matter is sticky sweet, just like him.

That said you should all know that JF gets something out of this too. You see (as Marj Dubeau pointed out) there is no TTC in Elmvale. Had JF not bought me a car, he would have been stuck with a very bored, rather dependent, potentially stir-crazy, highly obnoxious partner.

Or I could have biked everywhere.  Come to think of it, I probably should have given the whole bike thing a shot. Oh well, too late now.

We’ve decided to name the car Tobias, as a tribute to the Arrested Development character’s Blue Man Group days. Not only is it a vibrant blue, it’s very gay, in the jolly sense of the word. And no, we’re not planning to purchase a vanity plate.

So far, Tobias and I are like two five year olds in a park — instant best friends. I love him. He loves me. It’s love all around. And I can’t wait for you to meet him.

A Tale of Two Houses

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When JF and I first set out to meet Kevin, our real estate agent, it was the best of times. In fact, I was convinced we were going to find our house that morning. Having watched plenty of HGTV, I knew I could turn any fixer-upper into a masterpiece. All I needed was imagination, a bit of money, and two weeks.

The three of us sat down at the Elmvale Tim Hortons (which is apparently where shit gets done in Springwater Township) to talk about what we wanted in a home. I oozed enthusiasm and expectations. Kevin played it pretty cool.

As we pulled up to the first one, I was literally bouncing in my seat. It was beautiful. A quiet country road, acres and acres of field, a rustic barn, and a pretty, two-storey, red brick victorian. It even had a lilac tree.

As soon we opened the door, I was overwhelmed by an interesting, earthy, wet wool smell. The living room featured a pea green carpet I originally thought was polka dotted — turns out it was mould. The kitchen was okay, if you don’t care for running water. One bedroom had a ceiling fan with coca-cola bottles for blades. Another had a hole in the floor, convenient for reaching into the kitchen. Several walls were buckling from a leak in the roof. Best of all, this place was at the top of our price range. I left feeling dispirited.

It’s now several weeks later and we’ve seen houses all over Simcoe County. My skin is thicker. I feel older and wiser. And JF and I have come to a few basic conclusions:

  • To protect our relationship and sanity, we don’t want a giant project.
  • We can’t afford a real country house (with good land) that doesn’t need to be gutted. So we’re going to shelf that dream for later and start with a house in town.
  • We want something we can add a little value to.
  • We don’t want to be house poor.
  • We still want three bedrooms and some good yard space.

That leads me to our current dilemma. Our tale of two houses. At this juncture, JF likes one Elmvale house. I like another Elmvale house. Here is my unbiased assessment of both.

JF's house

JF’s house. Still pretty cute.

Good things about his house:

  • Great yard
  • Three bathrooms, four bedrooms
  • Big kitchen
  • Garage

Bad things about his house:

  • Weird, ugly floors
  • Dirty and covered in pet hair
  • Smelly basement
  • Located on a busy street
  • Dark
  • Crappy layout
My house. Even cuter.

My house. Even cuter.

Good things about my house:

  • All new electrical and plumbing
  • Historic home, gorgeous top to bottom
  • Move in ready
  • Nice, private yard
  • Great location on a quiet street

Bad things about my house:

  • No garage (buildable)
  • Leaky basement (but at least it’s not pretending to have a finished basement like JF’s house)
  • Currently only has two bedrooms (I have a plan to add a third)
  • No air conditioning (easy fix)

We are going to try to resolve this showcase showdown tomorrow. We’re looking at a few more houses in Coldwater and Hillsdale. Maybe we’ll find one we both love. Or maybe we won’t and we’ll fight to see whose Elmvale house prevails.  I like a good row now and again.

The Deal

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I grew up in the village (hamlet? intersection?) of Perkinsfield, Ontario. It’s so small it doesn’t even get a dot on the Ontario map. Even google gets confused when you try to find it. It used to have a fast food stand shaped like a giant hot dog that made it fairly memorable to cottagers driving through, but that shut down.

Found a photo of the old Perkinsfield hot dog stand.

Found a photo of the old Perkinsfield hot dog stand.

Anyway.

I’ve lived in Toronto since 2003.  I like the city. I like going to concerts on school nights and having delicious Indian food delivered straight to my door. I like my friends here. I like my workplace. I like my choir. I even like my apartment.

Our place is on the top right corner

Our Toronto apartment. The one on the top right corner.

The thing is, I’ve never actually loved the city. There were a few early years when I thought it might be love, but Toronto lost a little fairy dust each time I got stuck on a sweaty TTC car, was woken by police sirens, or forked over a massive rent cheque.

To me, Toronto is like a nice, A-type, career-minded person. I appreciate and admire it. But it takes itself too seriously.  It forgets there are other ways to be. It gets caught up in schedulers, americanos and expensive shoes. And all of that stuff has me itching to buy a few acres, throw on some wellies and buy a goat.

Which brings me to an interesting question. Ten years is a friggin long time. Is country life the way I remember it?

I have this vision of people wearing sweatpants to the grocery store, getting home at 5:15 p.m., and drinking beers on porches with long clotheslines flapping behind them. I imagine houses with wide open vistas, perfect for stargazing. My whole family laughing around my dinner table. Apple trees. Sunshine, lollipops and rainbows. But I might be idealizing things just a tad.

I will soon find out just how far off the mark my memory is. My partner Jean-François — the best, smartest, most handsome franco-ontarian this side of Markham — got a new office in Barrie and is buying us a house in Simcoe County. Probably in Elmvale, which is as close to Perkinsfield as we can get without making JF’s commute a major pain. My mother is thrilled.

This blog is my effort to catalogue our adventure. It might cover a little house hunting, a little decorating, a little job searching, and a little pondering. Maybe a little music (the other love of my life) too. Either way, I hope it will help you, my friends and family, keep abreast of my movements.

I guess you could say this big change in my life is an exercise in dream chasing. I have no job, no distinct plans, and will very soon have no money. But I’m optimistic. As addle-brained as this whole thing might be, it feels right.

That said, please wish me luck. I will need it.