Dream house fantasies.

I love my place, I really do. It's gorgeous, chock full of lovely little details and situated in one of awesomest places in the Capitol Hill neighborhood. Still, we all have biological clocks with different settings and the older I get, the more aware I am of those "For Sale" signs in various yards and less excited about retrieving my new bed frame from the woods behind my house (ok, that was an old roomate, not me, but mattresses from a friend's basement probably weren't much better). Perhaps it's just a sick joke because I will never in a million years be able to afford the objects of my house-lust (and while in other areas of my life I like to think I've matured into not panicking at the first sign of the word "commitment" the wide world of home ownership still falls squarely into the commitment-phobic realm for me), but sometimes I do think about what I'd like in a house. And here it is:

Ok, no not really. Actually, I'd give up a lot of style for some basic ammenities. I could live in one of those hideous box houses that seem to be scattering up and down the hill if it meant a guarantee of certain comforts. And I actually enjoy manageably small spaces. Not too small, but somewhere between cozy in a euphemistic sense and actually cozy.

Dream houseries:

1. Hearty, hale and fully modernized plumbing. Ok, I don't need an iToilet or anything (oh you know they're in developement and thanks, but I'd rather let google handle my plumbing, as I'm sure it will be adorable to hear digitalized "flushing noises" followed by "DROID" every time I push the "flush" button - at which point people will begin to say things like "I've gotta take a droid" which oddly kind of works), but I want sinks that turn on and all-the-way off, water that reaches a desired temperature consistantly with little futzing and angsting, and toilets that flush sucesfully regardless of whether my neighbor also had to use the loo that morning. Little things, but I like to think one of the advantages of living in the modern era is modern plumbing. That and not getting the plague as often.

But speaking of iToilets: 

2. A roomy kitchen. I tend to be happy enough with smaller homes and rooms because of the aforementioned "cozy effect". This attitude, however, does not extend to kitchens. Kitchens and cozy do not mix, unless we are talking "tea cozy" and even then I'm not entirely sure what that means and if it would truly go in a blend with kitchen in the final juicing. I don't really cook enough to justify a nice kitchen, but nonetheless, I spend some serious hours in there and kitchens have the magical ability to make any number of people (1, 2, 3.18593...) in a kitchen be in each others' ways all the time. I am in my own way in my kitchen at least fifty percent of the time I am in there. I want an island in my kitchen. The water and palm trees part is optional, but chairs and space and more space. I want to be able to start my food, sit down, meander to the fridge, sit down, study, maintain food, plate food, eat and was dishes without ever leaving the formal "kitchen" area. I want to be able to do this without bumping into myself and it would be great if there were other people that I could not-bump into in the kitchen as well.

3. Insulation. As flattering as it is to hear my downstairs neighbor remark on my lovely singing voice, hearing absolutely *every detail* of the lobby actions makes me a little edgy. Particularly considering how often I talk to myself. I hate to think what others are overhearing. As for the climate control part of the insulation, really again the ability to retain a temperature setting for more than a fleeting minute would be pretty impressive.

4. Stain proof everything! Paint! Floors! Furniture! Sheets! Dogs! Children! I am a slob. I have tried to buck this tendency, but I guarantee that no matter how I struggle, 90% of any liquid I attempt to imbibe and food I move towards my mouth will have an unexpected sojourn a la gravity. It shames me, it does, but I need to accept who and what I am and make accommodations for myself. And legs, while we're at it. I wore a nice new pair of grey slacks to the health law conference last week and my upper thighs are still ashen. Either I'm dying, turning into an elephant, or those pants have some magnificent dye involved. I'm voting on the elephant explanation but just in case, I'm getting a stain-proof coating.

5. Parking. In a garage. Possibly with additional storage for transportation-related accoutrements. Enough said.

7. A washer and dryer. I once considered this a luxury, and it certainly is something I can survive without one in my general vicinity, but if there are quarters or trips to places that require separate keys, I guarantee you my laundry will go far longer in a pile on my floor and I will spend a huge portion of my discretionary budget buying new packs of underwear because I never seem to have the right key or correct change or...

8. Fast internet and/or satellite television. What can I say. I'm addicted. And I realize this is an additional amenity but I'm just taking this moment to resign myself to the fact that these brain-sapping-laziness-inducing things are important to me.

9. Screw it - a cleaning staff. Stain proof is great, but it will only get me so far.

10. A Fire Pole - no not for my stripping practices you dirty people (good exercise as that appears to be). Now I'm wondering if that's why there's such a gendered leaning towards only suggesting fireman themes for "boys rooms" which was kind of offensive to me because I really wanted a fire-house-themed room with fire truck bed and a pole from my room straight into the kitchen when I was a kid and I was definitely a girl, but now maybe it's because obviously little girls who have firepoles are training to display their bodies for the lascivious pleasure of men, while boys are training to save lives. That's not fair. I'm gonna go burn some bras now (mostly because it's easier than you know trying to actually launder them).