Be it ever so humble ...

The house next door to us has been on the market, sitting empty, for 11 months. Now let me assure you, this is a fine house. It has three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a stylish eat-in kitchen, a living room, and a spacious family room with a brick fireplace. What’s more, it has a two-car garage and a fenced backyard with a beautiful deck, a hot tub, and nice landscaping. After 11 months on the market, it sits as one of the area’s true real estate bargains. Really, though, it was priced to sell from day one.

There’s been plenty of interest in the place, lots of drive-by traffic, a steady stream of realtors walking couples, families, and stocking-footed singles through the place. There have been offers, and inspections, and, I imagine, hopes dashed as the sellers come ever so close to sealing a deal, yet never do.

Word on the street around here is that the problem with the house is that there’s no door leading from the attached garage directly into the house. One must step outside and take roughly 12 steps to get to the door. It’s a flaw that seemingly makes the place a non-contender in this tough market.

Is this possible? Can something seemingly so inconsequential keep a house on the market for nearly a year? And if so, how realistic are the expectations of today’s homebuyers? Is a twelve step jaunt from garage to door unbearably inconvenient? Have these people watched too many hours of Flip This House on TLC? Have they never faced imperfection? Is no one willing to resolve a so-called design flaw? Are these kinds of challenges not worth the reward of converting a vacant house into a home of one’s own? I’m befuddled.

By the above standards, of course, the house at Four Cedars would not stand a chance of spurring interest in today’s real estate market. (It’s not for sale.) We have saggy floors that hint at major foundation problems. None of the wiring is up to code. The stairway to the second floor is dangerously steep, narrow and uneven. The cellar floor is wet all spring long. And, if you ask if there is a master suite with his and her walk-in closets and a whirlpool tub, the answer is no. We don’t even have closets. In spite of all its flaws, or perhaps because of them, this old house is truly our home.

And so it could be with the house next door provided someone, anyone is willing to look beyond its flaws to imagine the possibilities. It could be home to anyone inspired enough to understand that a house is just a tree, post-production, while a home is the theatre inside of which we stage our lives day after glorious day.

In a way, I feel bad for the intrepid house-hunter who insists on walking through listing after listing after listing, on a quest for perfection. It doesn’t exist. Not in houses, nor in homes, nor in life.