The townhouse is pretty small, although it's advertised as a three bedroom with a finished basement. The sweetheart of a seminarian who has just graduated and is vacating it showed us around.
Here are the facts:
- a tiny three bedroom townhouse occupied by a family of five is, by necessity, going to appear stuffed to the gills with stuff and thus somewhat messy (get over it, Mibi)
- a third bedroom that is going to be the back-from-college room of StrongOpinions is going to seem much smaller than humanly possible by said 18-year-old (get over it, StrongOpinions)
- the buckling faux-paneling in the so-called finished basement doesn't indicate that the front door still leaks, making the wall unsuitable for bookshelves
- the exceedingly lively party at the next-door home of the African-American family looks promising, except when I think how much I've got to read and study
- the vast quantity of small kid detritus in the courtyard and in the back yards means I may get asked to babysit (I have mixed feelings about that)
- the number of seminarians living on this one courtyard guarantees community of one sort or another (I have mixed feelings about that, too, being a private person)
The jury is out on what will actually fit in this place. I think I need to draw some diagrams or something...
We got home, StrongOpinions went out with her friend, I crashed. She came home about midnight and thumped around making herself a snack. I woke up, came downstairs to read on the sofa, and she decided to join me for a long conversation about fears, sadness, etc. etc. Conversation lasted two hours. She will be OK, I think. She's also facing some minor female surgery in a couple of weeks, and I know that's weighing on her mind. All I know is that I need more sleep.
Please, somebody, buy this house?