I have decided to purchase a house. It is already totally daunting. I've established my requirements and price range. Unfortunately, I thought $100k was buying a lot more house than seems to be the case, at least in areas desirable to me. Most of my prospects so far have been foreclosures that appear to have been rentals. In disrepair, utterly trashed, but also old and primitive looking enough that hopes for original kitchens and bathrooms are not unfounded. All of my best options thus far have been in my old hood, though, and I don't want to live that far north! I must be closer to work, for I have road angst.
But I will be looking for a while, I'm sure. I found an interesting and creepy 1925 build with Arizona room, mysterious backyard with benches hidden behind little stands of trees, outdoor fireplace (as if), original details inside, and so on. The house had an eerie feel about it and I felt decidedly creeped out as I circled the exterior, looking in the windows and trying doors. Like it was holding its breath, and hiding something. And waiting.
You really never know, though. I was thinking about my dad's old house, very beloved to me in spite of its own complete creepiness. There was a suicide in the garage at some point and you could still see the odd splatter on the unfinished vaulted ceiling. No shit - they didn't have ladders then? The guy who bought it from my dad did a complete remodel and flipped it. I went to the open house and all of the dusty 1950s details had been sanitized, painted, covered with drywall and otherwise driven from the house, including in the garage. So god knows what happened in this scary abandoned bungalow. It's set back from the street and completely obscured from everything by deep oleanders and trees, so obviously all of this is ideal for me. I'd stay at home alone and play Sunset Boulevard.