Did you write the letter? I would have.
Very. How about you?
I thought the same thing. I kept seeing the title in the latest threads list and thinking “someone thinks that there are clothing requirements for house hunting”? Finally my curiosity got the best of me and I clicked on it. Unlike you though, I realized my mistake almost as soon as I started reading.
Thank my stars I didn’t go with my alternative title, “House Hunting Dumps”. :eek:
Well, a few of the stories qualify…
We saw The Vortex House. We were looking in a really nice residential area, families and professionals, and this was one of a row of lovely Edwardian houses. All of the others had an expensive family car and kids’ bikes and a perfectly groomed Labrador in the front garden. That kind of place.
The first thing we notice when we get inside is that it slants. At the kind of angle that throws you off balance whenever you take a step.
The second thing we notice is that it is manky. Like nothing has been redecorated, replaced or cleaned since 1965.
The third thing we notice is that every room has a sink in it.
The most overpowering thing we notice is the complete, pervasive sense of misery. Like everyone who’s lived in that house in the last hundred years had utterly given up on his or her life. You could feel it sucking your mood down.
It had obviously been a fourth-rate boarding house (although the estate agent tried to laugh that off, in a slightly hysterical way, when we mentioned it) and not for happy people.
This post reminds me of something I noticed when house-hunting.
I’m not a superstitious sort at all, and I’m not one to reject a house because it has ugly decor that’s going to be changed anyway … but some places, for whatever reasons, seemed to have a sad atmosphere to them, and others (again for whatever reasons) to have a happy feeling.
I attribute this to rational causes - the amount of light and suchlike.
Personally, I blame curses from sea witches that are trying to steal my voice.
Whatever the reason (and I agree with you - it’s probably fairly subtle clues like colours and lighting), I’d listen to those feelings (adding them in to everything else about a house).
I just want to say that I love you. You frighten me a bit, but I love you. 
Oh, on-again, off-again. No wonder the word popped into my head so quickly. Apparently I have seen it here before.
I think the carpet on the wall was a way to block wind but it was just too much ORANGE.
We looked at…
Casa de Cucacracha - the roaches were so inured to humans that they just looked defiantly at us when we dared to open a kitchen cabinet. Decided to let someone else deal with tenting and fumigating.
Package Palace - Across the back yard fence was a FedEx depot. Visions of semis loading and unloading at all hours was unappealing, since the place did not come with a lifetime supply of earplugs.
Living Room Loo - Seriously? A toilet sitting in the middle of the living room? Just ewww…
Thomas Edison Lived Here - How the hell did a three bedroom house near San Francisco make it to 2005 with only two 15-amp fuses for the entire place? Better budget $10,000 for a complete re-wire.
When we were shopping for a house in the DC area we started looking in the $350-$375k range out west of Fairfax. Every single house we looked at (with our desired sq/ft) under $380k had the basement partitioned out into 5-8 miniature bedrooms, each with bunk beds. Turns out Mexicans swarmed the area during the housing construction boom of the late 90s/ early 2000s and then hit the road back to Mexico when the bubble burst. They would live packed into these houses 15-20 people in each while they worked in the area. Almost all of these houses were foreclosures because the immigrants basically stopped paying and left the country.
House hunting with my parents: we were thrilled when our realtor informed us “This is a Frank Lloyd Wright house!” (Northern Midwest.)
From the outside it was gorgeous. When you got inside? I don’t mean to be crude but they frikkin’ raped it. Metallic op-art wallpaper as far as the eye could see. The kicker was the black bathroom fixtures: including a BIDET. A BIDET!!! In INDIANA! We staggered out visibly baffled.
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House hunting with my parents: we were thrilled when our realtor informed us “This is a Frank Lloyd Wright house!”
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My first question would have been “Have they fixed the roof leaks yet?” Frank designed very pretty buildings that were notorious for water problems.
Huh? What? Speak up.
I’m guessing my ex-husband’s relatives haven’t tried to sell their house yet. I can’t imagine what will happen when they do. (This is my ex’s aunt and uncle)
They live in a very family-friendly neighborhood, close to a great elementary school and middle school, have a huge playground and park within walking distance. It started out as a basic 1950s-era 3-bedroom, 2 and a half bath rancher. Nothing special, but a nice house overall.
When their kids grew up and moved out, they renovated. I mean, *really, really *renovated.
They sacrificed one bedroom to make an expansive master suite with a sitting area and a huge bathroom. One other bedroom was sacrificed to expand the smallish kitchen into a huge gourmet kitchen. They changed the remaining full bath on the main floor to a powder room.
The work was well-done, and it’s really nice, but it’s now a one-bedroom house!
Maybe this ruining some people’s gothic/horror fantasies involving kidnapping/locking up crazy aunts, wives (ah Jane Eyre), torture victims or trapped vampires, but there’s another possible explanation for padlocks on the outside of a room. Some people in roommate situations get worried about other residents being in their room when the room-owner isn’t there, so they put a padlock on the outside of the door. It’s obviously never supposed to be locked when anyone is inside the room.
I’m not saying it’s completely sane, but it’s at least more reasonable than locking people inside rooms.
Think of it as an opportunity - lots of foster kids, your own little orphanage!
I detest people who do shit like that to classically wonderful houses. I stopped watching the shoes a few years back about flipping houses as I watched one program in horror as the guys cranked up a chain saw and cut a slab out of the perfect intricate pasadena craftsman wall [sort of like this one] to install a large screen tv entertainment center. That wall can never be repaired so that it looks like it did before they fucked it up. If they tried to sell me that house, they would drop dead from the verbal pitting I would do upon them as they stood there.
I’m having a Sherlock Holmes flashback to The Resident Patient: “I tell you someone’s been in my room!”.