I was in the middle of a phone conversation with my mom one Friday night, several weeks ago. ‘My old [former] house is for sale,’ she informed me, ‘guess how much it’s going for?’ I had no clue and professed as much. ‘Forty-four thousand!’ My brain struggled to comprehend the number: 44,000. Dollars?! Isn’t that the price…..of a moderately expensive car?
I got off the phone and relayed the news to the professor. ‘Guess how much my mom’s old house on Concord is going for?’ He didn’t know, either. ‘Forty four thousand.’
We gasped. Enviously. Having spent nearly three years in a city where forty-four thousand dollars might buy you a used RV. A place where a dump of a house on a postage-stamp-sized lot…..will cost you ten times that amount.
So we sat on the couch and stared at the laptop screen as we looked at the real estate listings in our former hometown. There was the house we used to walk by on our neighborhood walks. The one with the tennis court. The one….for $485,000.
I sensed right away that it was a bad idea, sitting on a couch on a Friday night, looking at bargain basement real estate (comparatively) but we couldn’t stop. The five bedroom, three bath-house that was a stone’s throw away from our former domicile, whose corner lot I’d admired once or twice. It was for sale…for a mere $239,000. We could buy two! (Not really…at all.)
We wiped away our cheap real estate-induced tears and broadened our search to Indianapolis. Where we found this mid-century modern gem. Designed by an actual architect. For $249,000.
Suddenly we were depressed. And all the Snow Leopard in the world couldn’t cheer us up. So we buried the laptop.
On Sunday we went for a bike ‘ride’; meaning the oldest two were perched upon bikes while we adults walked beside them. Doing our best to [patiently] exhort the three year old and the one year old to move it! We followed the trail past Heritage Park into one of Calgary’s finer neighborhoods. There were chirping birds and tall trees, large lots and even larger houses. It was exactly the kind of neighborhood I’d like to live in…….if I was some sort of plastic-surgeon-to-the-stars.
We passed a bungalow that was for sale. ‘Look at that one,’ I motioned to the professor, a tinge of hope evident in my voice. Certain that, though we could definitely not afford it, it had the highest possibility of being the cheapest house on the block. ‘That’s going to be two million,’ the professor dashed my dreams. Dollars? He had to be joking. ‘But…..it’s small-ish,’ I protested, gesturing towards the modest facade and the measly two-car-garage. He shook his head at my real estate naivete. I vowed to prove him wrong.
Later that evening, I googled the listing. It was $2.15 million. Dollars. For a 2652 square foot home. Which works out to….almost $1000 per square foot? (Okay, $810 per square foot, but still…..)
Time to move to Mississippi, methinks.