Blueprints

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I'm the first to say that I love apartment living—small, simple spaces that are easy to maintain, don't allow you to indulge in clutter and excess, and come with supers that will fix things for you. Sometimes I even love it, and cocooning myself within its walls, a little too much.

But as much as I love apartments, I can't stop day dreaming about a proper house. Not a McMansion-type deal, but something quaint and cozy—maybe a stone cottage or a brick colonial—with land (but not too much). Enough to grow a flowering garden and a vegetable garden, enough to have plenty of blades of grass to wiggle my toes in and lay a blanket down on top of to gulp in some fresh air and ground myself. Enough that it wouldn't be out-of-the-realm-of-possibility that I'd need to spend a Saturday morning weeding and pruning and transplanting cuttings. My mom had long, tapered nails when I was growing up and I remember her never missing a chance to burrow them into the soil of our flower beds, even though she attracted mosquitoes like honey and had a million other things to do. I'd like that to be me someday.

I loved the house I grew up in in Virginia, but I'd want a different style for myself. At that time the format-du-decade was to have very distinct living spaces, so I grew up with a den (informal), living room (formal, guests only, and lots of breakables!), a dining room, a breakfast nook, a kitchen, a pantry, a laundry room, a downstairs bathroom, a sunroom, a deck, an over-the-garage-gigantic-room (that became my brother's when he was a teenager), a walk-in-closet on the upstairs hallway for my dad's collection of fancy suits), my bedroom, my bathroom, my mom's crafting/sewing room (which was previously my brother's bedroom), and my parents' master bedroom (with another walk-in-closet for my mom and a double-vanity bathroom with jacuzzi and separate shower). All sitting on almost an acre of land, on a cul-de-sac, that stretched into the woods, which made running around like hooligans exceptionally fun (and very safe—no traffic!).

But for me some day? Much as I fantasize about the Walker compound, all I really want are a handful of comfortably-sized bedrooms upstairs (or at least separated by a few steps up or a hallway for a one-level house), a proper entryway (obsessed with this—so many apartments in NYC open up directly into the living room which freaks me out, luckily ours has a separate entrance, and most houses do, too), a kitchen that opens into a great room with a fireplace and lots of cozy seating options. Some windowboxes. A porch or a deck. At least two bathrooms. And that's it.

Definitely no need for a formal dining room or living room for us, though. But, hardwood floors, a fireplace or two and high ceilings are a must. And, maybe a terrazzo-lined outdoor space with a brick oven. I wouldn't mind that at all.

The problem is that with everything so "who-the-heck-knows" with our future plans, we have no idea where this home will be. Just off the extensive subway line of Stockholm proper? In the hills above R's Sicilian hometown? In, or near, a charming, American university town like Providence, RI or Charlottesville, VA? Somewhere I haven't even dreamed of yet?

To be determined.

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