In an effort to keep domestic peace about the house, I have agreed to consider an exodus to the suburbs.
In looking at houses that cost less than ours and are three times bigger, with lawn and garage and what-not, I have to ask myself, why in the world do I feel the need to be crammed up inside a Federally shaped urban garden shed?
I don’t want to deal with four walls. But that being said, row houses come in all environments.
The new job is a block away from the train station. That means, anywhere along the train line that connects the husband’s job to the city (R5) we could settle. There are really great, nearly awesome schools out there. And the neighborhoods are like little country villages with quaint Main Streets and cute stores and things within walking distance if you live near the train stations.
Once upon a time, back in the dark ages, I wanted a Victorian house. Not attached. Something with a nice porch. But then I got swayed to the urban way of life and poof, into a row house I went. And I love row houses but I am not the only one living in this one.
Part of the reason for the malaise would be that the Playstation broke. It’s really breaking the husband’s heart. And because our budget is so tight, it will be a little while until we can get the part to fix it. Frank (the husband) relates that the biggest issue is that he sees other people’s houses, that are bigger but out in the country, and feels we aren’t getting our money’s worth.
I’m pretty sure I’m not going to get a 15-minute bicycle commute in the suburbs. Also, if we move out, I am going to get hit with the stupid I-work-in-Philly-but-I-don’t-live-there tax which works out to a whole lot. Probably more than the difference we’d pay for a cheaper house, with more property tax. And considering how hard it is to drop the Pumpkin off at school and pick her up on time, I can’t see how moving where everything is more spread out is going to be an improvement.
Still, you never know what lies beyond. I promised to be open minded.