How I Almost Moved Into a House But Didn't

A few weeks ago, I opened up Facebook while eating breakfast and saw an ad for the perfect house.  Only a few minutes from where I currently live and still in a neighbourhood that I love, the house was the ideal balance between "old enough to be charming" and "new enough to not have knob and tube wiring*".  And it was for rent, which is probably the only way I'm ever going to get into a house, as I'm utterly terrified of buying something.

It took me only a few minutes to email the person renting it, and I stopped by to see it on my way home from work that evening.  When I walked in, the house was toasty warm and beautifully decorated for Christmas, and my heart said a very loud yes.  This is my home.  I want to live here.

For the next four days, I lived and breathed that house.  I posted about it on Twitter and Facebook, I dreamed of all the things I could do in it (Butterfly garden!  Bat house!  Little Free Library!), and I started rescheduling my upcoming vacation to include packing up my apartment and moving into a house.  I was 100% mentally there.

And then...I went back.  I went to see it again with my Mom and to work out the practical details, and the reality of the house started to sink it.  Houses come with lawns to be mowed and driveways to be shoveled and windows (so many beautiful windows) to be washed.  And the $400 more per month in rent was only the beginning of the increased costs - I would have to add electricity and water and gas and a home alarm system and alllll the things I would want to buy with double the space that I currently have.  Yes, I could host games nights in a stylish historic living room warmed by a gas fireplace, but I would also have to get up early on snow days to dig my car out of the detached and unheated garage.

I went home that night, and I thought and thought and thought, trying to figure out what to do.  It wasn't a question of whether I could afford it - I save a high percentage of my income, so there is money in my budget to move into a much nicer home than where I'm living right now.  The question was, why did I want to move into a house?

The answer, for me, was social.  I wanted to host games nights for friends and have my aunt over for coffee and drop in informally on the friend who lives around the corner.  All really good things.  But...none of them dependent on being in a house.  Sure, my one-bedroom apartment is limited in its ability to host big gatherings, but I'm an introvert who actually doesn't really like being around large groups of people.  Two to six people is about ideal for me, and my dining room table can comfortably seat six.  The size of my apartment isn't really what limits me socially - it's time and energy, both of which I'd have less of in a house.

The financial side of it, even though I could afford it, was also a big issue.  The added costs would be approximately equal to one month a year of income - that's huge!  When I looked at it that way, and asked myself "Would I rather have that house or an extra month of vacation every year?", vacation won without a moment of hesitation**.

So....I still live in the apartment where I've lived for nine years.  And...I'm good with that.  Work is a 6-minute drive when there's no traffic (and under 30 in even the worst of rush hour traffic).  I can easily walk to fabulous restaurants and coffee shops.  And I have time and money and energy to do the thing that's most important to me:  connect.

*Technically renovated to not have knob and tube wiring...but still new enough to not be a nightmare of old home disasters.

**Not that I'm going to take an extra month of vacation, as my vacation time is already pretty ridiculously amazing, and I do need to earn money.