House Hunters: PTSD Edition

From alibis to enemas, we’re combing the country for a community that doesn’t feel like we fell into an even more dysfunctional and less sexy Wisteria Lane.

I’ve been traveling this week, so I appreciate your patience with my lax publishing schedule. I got to see my older daughter, my parents, and my brother and his family. And…I got to spend extra quality time with my husband and younger daughter. Smiles all around.

Happy Easter and Happy Passover to all who celebrate.

(Photo by Tahlia Doyle)

I’ve pulled exactly zero punches when I talk about where I live—the northeast in general, my town specifically. Expensive, crowded, self-centered attitudes, yada, yada, yada. I can’t wait to skedaddle (or so I say).

But as we start planning for our next move, I have a confession: I’m scared stiff!

We’re within a decade of making it happen. The closer it gets, the more terror I feel: I don’t want to pick wrong again.

See, I didn’t know I was picking wrong last time. I was in new-mom-mode and wanted a good school district and reasonable commuting distance to NYC.

Our town provided both. On paper, it’s a great town with lots to offer.

But I couldn’t have predicted that we wouldn’t really click with the people here. I had no idea we’d look back over 20 years and wonder why neither my husband nor I have the kinds of local friendships we hoped to have. And I’m sad we don’t—which makes me incredibly anxious about screwing up again.

How can we prevent a mistake we never saw coming?

That question is what I’ve been wrestling with for quite some time as we’ve imagined in great detail the lifestyle we want “in our next place”—wherever that turns out to be.

Our list of fantasy home features is broad and yet oddly specific. It’s the kind of list that gets built over years of pesky grievances and oversights you swear you’ll be more attuned to the next time you have a chance.

🟡 My list:

• A pantry adjacent to the kitchen

• A powder room on the main living level

• A proper foyer with a closet

🔵 His list:

• Separate bathroom vanities

• A workshop with a ceiling high enough that he doesn’t have to duck in doorways

• A garage that fits our cars, including when we actually open their doors

🟢 Our combined list:

• Perfect plumbing (is there such a thing?)

• A screened room to enjoy the outside without mosquitoes

• A laundry room near bedrooms—where clothes, sheets, and towels are actually discarded

I have a fair amount of confidence we’ll find a home to meet these demands, especially since construction in this century seems to accommodate most of these criteria.

But the neighborhood we want…? Well, that’s more nuanced.

High hopes for the right folks

We have big hopes. High hopes. Humongous stratospheric hopes that we’ll have people within walking, or golf-carting, or even short driving distance we actually enjoy hanging out with. The wish-list of expectations is rather lengthy and starting to sound more and more like a spell from Practical Magic.

• Criteria #1: great senses of humor. Please, Dear Lord, let them be self-deprecating.

• Smart, but not condescending know-it-alls. You know the type.

• Observant, but not nosy.

• Cordial, but not clingy.

• Sporty, but not cutthroat. Ditto on all games.

• Convivial, but able to take social cues when hosts are tired.

• Family oriented, but not Buy My Grandkid’s Raffle Ticket obnoxious.

• All this to say: normal.

We drive through neighborhoods trying to get a bead on the people who live there. We’re merciless as we size them up. We’ve been once bitten, and now we’re whatever means twice-shy-with-a-judgy-twist-that-is-equal-parts-neuroses-and paranoia.

😵 We’ve already lived through the neighbor who telephoned to ask if my husband had been fired when she noticed his car in the driveway three weekdays in a row.

😵 We’ve lived through the crazy neighbor who tried to “swim” across his lawn.

😵 We’ve lived through the neighbors whose two year renovation flooded OUR property and then stopped talking to US as if the roles were reversed.

😵 We’ve lived through the neighbors (twice) with incessantly barking dogs.

😵 We’ve lived through the neighbors whose dog attacked ours and nearly killed her.

😵 We’ve lived through the neighbors who dragged us into a multi-state police investigation.

😵 We’ve lived through the neighbor who asked for help with an enema.

(I wish I was kidding.)

So…can you really blame us for judging books by their covers now? We stalk potential new neighborhoods like sharks in chummed water, crazed to find something meaty to sink our three rows of razor teeth into and never ever let go.

Just a few short questions; they’ll only take a minute

I’ve considered canvassing potential new neighborhoods with a questionnaire. I mean, how else can I possibly speed up this process so we can find the just right place?

It’s still a work in progress, but so far I think I have ten solid questions to help us rule out the wrong fits, such as:

1. List your three favorite comedians.

2. Are you now or have you ever been wanted in several states for multiple felonies?

3. When you look out your window and see an unfamiliar car, a delivery truck, or suitcases, do you phone for an update or just go on with your own life?

4. Are you in agreement that a dog’s barking should last no more than 30 seconds and never occur before 7am or after 9pm?

5. Can we agree that having a fence around your in-ground pool means the fence will be perpendicular to the ground and secure enough to withstand wind?

6. When you excavate for a basement addition, do you haul away the dirt and debris as per the law, or do you spread it around your yard raising its elevation by four feet and causing all adjacent properties to flood?

7. On a scale of hermit to homecoming queen, how social are you?

8. What are your feelings about beer refrigerators on front porches?

9. Apps and desserts parties, yay or nay?

10. What are the chances you’ll need an enema in the next two years?

I just want to be one of those people who have extreme hometown pride, love their neighbors and local friends, and count themselves lucky for finding just the right place to reside—especially in retirement when we can prioritize play.

Is that really too much to ask?