Although I haven't wanted to say much about it, because nothing is settled, Robb and I have been quietly house-hunting. Home prices have dropped, and interest rates are low, and for the first time ever, we can actually do more than fantasize about buying a modest little home.
Which brings me to the subject of the renovation blogs, that I've been obsessively reading.
Robb and I are looking at houses built before 1950, and with what we have to spend, we're probably looking at a "fixer." (This is a big issue, actually. Robb who has helped build two houses with hand tools, can no longer do carpentry. And I never learned.)
I'm coming to realize that there's a weird parallel between home renovation/decoration and pornography.
There's the pure fantasy aspect of both. Both offer a distilled moment of perfection, devoid of tedium, hard work, or headaches. Both have a hyper-groomed aesthetic. The freakishly polished inhuman bodies presented in porn seem analogous to the immaculate homes devoid of electrical cords or stray pencils.
We may imagine possessing such a things, but we can't really envision living with them day to day. Which would be more aggravating, a relationship with a porn star, or ownership of an actual hundred-year-old house? High maintenance? Expensive? Infuriating? Undoubtedly.
Yet we still ogle this stuff with unabashed desire, knowing full well that we're not only unlikely to ever have it, we probably wouldn't feel comfortable with it, if we did.
You think I'm kidding don't you? Really, I'm not. (Don't worry, the links are to renovation websites.)
Apparently, I'm not the only person to have this thought.