One of my greatest guilty pleasures (after watching stupid teen shows like “Vampire Diaries”) is looking at real estate. Specifically, I like to look at charming old houses which are outside our financial scope at this time but may be within it in ten years or so. I love to go through the pictures admiring the craftsmanship and planning renovations which enhance the original charm of the homes (what a travesty when over zealous renovators strip these lovelies of their detail!).
Right now I am drooling over this 3 bedroom heritage home in New Westminster’s West End:
And rooms like the following with molding and arches:
I look at this room and my mind moves a mile a minute in excitement. I imagine new tile floors, built in banquette seating with gorgeous throw pillows surrounding a round pedestal table, whimsical wallpaper above the wainscoting and a gorgeous light fixture.
All fun and games until I start to indulge these fancies for too long, hence it being a “guilty” pleasure. I start to want the houses, really, really want them. I feel so frustrated that this dream is out of my grasp that discontent starts to grow in my heart. When it gets to this point I have to give myself a mental slap in the face in order to remember how much I already have.
Three years ago we would never have even imagined being able to own a three bedroom townhouse. Not only do we have the space we need for our family but also added pleasures like an en-suite, large closets, nine foot ceilings, and neighbors we adore. There is so much to enjoy and be thankful for in my current circumstances.
And not just in terms of housing. I have two beautiful children who have actually started playing together (between episodes of Sofia pushing Charlie over and him biting her in retaliation), as well as a healthfully growing baby who no longer makes me want to vomit every minute of every day.
I’ll keep these blessings close to my heart and mind as Steve and I enjoy being looky loos at the open house this weekend.