Category Archives: downsizing

Falling in love with our house. ALL over again.

Being fifty-something, I should have my feelings more under control.

But I haven’t. I am fickle.

When we bought our current home more than 12 years ago, I fell in love at first sight. This grand old dame had me at “verandah”.

We settled in fast, devising a ten-year plan to boost our investment in a high capital growth area while we enjoyed life in the city. Surely by then My Girl and Wonder Boy would have flown the nest and we’d be ready for a move to the country.

We were right on one count only.

My Girl has made her way out into the big wide world several years ago.

Wonder Boy is still hanging on, teetering on the edge, almost ready to take flight.

And I’m not ready for a move to the country.

Feck. There go our best laid plans …

When we moved here in 2000, we set about renovating. Serious renovating. I mean knocking out walls. Unearthing beautiful period features of our home that a previous generation of 1970s renovators had eaten up.

We painted. We polished. We plastered. We sandblasted and glazed and painted some more. It seemed never-ending. But over the years we got tired, maybe bored, and slowed down on the work.

We busied ourselves with other things and learned to live with the undone renovations, as if they didn’t exist.

We dropped the ball.

In the last eighteen months or so, we swung our ten-year plan into action.

We needed to ready our house for sale so we could downsize to something smaller.

Something in the country.

We picked up that renovating ball and got it bouncing.

We turned this, into this

And this, into this

And this, into this (still a work in progress)

ANd this into this (WIP)

french doors, midlife, fifty-something, renovation, before and after

We even renovated the bathroom and I got this dreamy bath.

Now I’m not sure I can leave. I am falling in love with this house ALL over again. I’m motivated more than ever to show this home some more love.

Since this incidental gardening stint and the $4 porch redo, my spirits lift every time I come in the front gate.

Yes, this grand old dame still has me at “verandah”.

“Here” doesn’t feel like a rut whatsoever.

And a move to the country doesn’t seem nearly as inviting as it did ten years ago.

Eventually our retirement is likely to depend on us unlocking some capital from this house as we move on to something smaller and more manageable.

Eventually.

For now (for the next wee while, at least) I’m loving making this house our home again … a fifty-something home. We’re creating a new legacy and something to leave behind … something for the next generation of renovators to rip out and re-fashion.

Yes, I’m loving falling in love with our house ALL over again. There I said it. Again.

Time to break it to Mr P that my heart belongs to another here.

My spidey sense tells me he might be feeling the same way and loving this resurgence of our renovation mojo as much as I am.

Why else would he be calling himself the “roofing ninja” this week?

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Going, going … passed in

Going, going … passed in

Being fifty-something, I love the simple thrills in life.

For me, auctions are one of those simple delights. I love a spirited ebay auction, a hard-fought clearing sale, a bidding war over an antique lamp and, most of all, a property auction.

There is so much at stake at a home auction … the expectations of the vendor versus the hopes of the buyer. The real estate agent has invested time and effort (and the vendor’s hard-earnt) in a marketing campaign and his/her reputation is very publicly on the line. A sale on the day means kudos (and commission). A no-sale equals fail (and settling for the auction fee for now).

We regards house auctions as “Saturday sport” and often head out hoping for a close match, where two (or more buyers) go head to head, dragging each other beyond their limits, bidding with their hearts instead of their heads and reacting to the prospect of losing their imagined future life in the house.

It’s nerve-wracking, adrenaline-generating stuff. You know it’s been a great auction when the crowd applauds on the fall of the hammer.

Getting ourselves into the downsizing groove has meant we’re back out attending auctions often, familiarising ourselves with the set-up so we’re uber-prepared if and when the right property hits the market.

Our latest auction experience was a flop …. a lack-lustre crowd of less than a dozen punters (half of them were probably neighbours) and no excited young couples clutching copies of the contract. Wearing their hearts on their sleeves.

The auctioneer tried everything and couldn’t extract a single bid from the gallery. His vendor bid didn’t even get things rolling.

Eventually, he passed the property in.

Disappointing.

Or not.

It means we get to have a serious think about this one. It’s the first property we’ve inspected lately that we (Mr P and I) agree on … we can both see ourselves living here.

That’s a watershed moment.

Venus and Mars have aligned.

This two-bedroom fairly new build is far enough away from surburbatory to be regarded as inner city, close to the CBD, the railway station, and the footy ground. Two bedrooms, an office space for me, a man cave for he and not a centimetre wasted in the floor plan.

It’s sleek and modern. Very shiny. Very grown-up.

Now that it’s back on the market, there’ll be more viewing days and we’ll be able to go along and crunch the carpet while we dream a little (and negotiate with the bank).

And I’ll be able to get another look at this stunning cowhide stool that I’m now coveting in a giggly-girlish-boy-band-way.

Venus and Mars go house-hunting.

Being fifty- something, we’re thinking about downsizing.

Before long we’ll be empty-nesters and this house just won’t fit us anymore. It’s too much to heat/cool, clean and maintain for just the two of us.

It was all part of our grand plan to sell this place about now, move to something smaller and free up some capital for the rest-egg.

Now the time is near, we’re unsure where we want to live, what sort of home we can get for our dollars and whether or not we might be better renting before leaping into something else.

We’ve decided to devote the next few months to checking out our options. We’re starting in our own backyard, in our own suburb (where we know we love living).

When it comes to house-hunting, Mr P and I are worlds apart (perhaps even galaxies).

Yes, we are Venus and Mars.

Our latest couple of inspections went something like this.

The first was a two-bedroom unit, one of four converted from a lovely old red brick bakery building. It’s just a few doors down from our house.

the bakery

Mars: It’s kind of cosy.
Venus: In a dungeon-like way?

Mars: I think it’s been styled. No-one is living here.
Venus: It smells like someone’s living here.

Venus: It’s so dark. What a pity those windows face south, not north.
Mars: Which way is north?

Venus: There’s no toilet downstairs.
Mars: Yes there is.
Venus: No there’s not.
Mars: What’s this then?
Venus: Toilets in laundries don’t count.

Venus: There is a party wall right along this side.
Mars: They should have put some windows in it.

The second was a more contemporary townhouse, just a couple of streets away.

spring st townhouse

Mars: Where’s the shed?
Venus: Where’s the laundry?

Mars: You could fit one car, maybe two in the driveway out front.
Venus: There was a driveway out front?

Mars: Wow! Check out the size of this bed!
Venus: There’s no room for bedside tables.

Mars: You could back a truck into the walk-through wardrobe.
Venus: But could I squeeze an ironing board in there?

Venus: This dining area is lovely with that large north-facing window.
Mars: Which way is north?

Time will tell if the planets ever align enough for us to agree on a new place to live. I’m sure it will happen; we’ve done it before (three times).

Today, it looks like light years away.

In the meantime, when those real estate agents start calling for feedback on these inspections … I’ll just refer them here.