The Century Home

I live in a century home in Toronto. The size and value are in keeping with Toronto’s expression of proportion. I’m proud of our home and the blood, sweat and tears we have put into it, but I do have an 18-foot mural of the wilderness painted on the side of our neighbour’s garage that faces our garden. It reminds me where I go on vacation.

Last night, my man shoved a real estate magazine under my nose, jabbing a finger at a listing near the bottom of the page. A century farm house on 5.5 acres perched right atop the edge of a worth-it commute to work for not much more than what our current house is worth. Most unexpected.

I think he’s been reading my blog, though he’d never admit it.

Today, my right brain breathlessly coaxed my left brain to crunch mortgage numbers in the background as I went about my not-undemanding job. It’s doable, but comes with challenges, as does everything in life that’s worth anything.

But of course, there’s another question that inevitably comes out of any bottom line that we can afford: what’s wrong with it? I may just call the real estate agent tomorrow and ask.

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2 Comments

  1. Laila Farrell said,

    January 22, 2011 at 1:08 pm

    Always good to know you have options!

  2. nicole said,

    January 23, 2011 at 12:01 am

    Ask! You never know!


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