I did it with my first house. Looked at it and saw what it might be. The thought of what it was going to take to get it there didn't discourage me, because I was an idiot and had no clue just how much work I was facing.
In retrospect, it worked out well.
My house in Milwaukee was far from a fixer-upper. It just had paint colors I couldn't tolerate. And some ugly light fixtures. I didn't like my job, and I didn't like it up there. The house never felt like home, and I find myself skpping the whole time up there in my head.
When I think of "my last house," it's actually two houses ago. The one that needed fixing up.
This house. Well.
It's two miles from my parents. Less than that to Bill's. Ten minutes to the airport. And blocks from a gas station that sells actual half and half.
Perfect size. Garage. Fireplace. Big closets. Attached garage plus a huge building out back.
But, oh, so very aesthetically displeasing when I bought it.
Just like the first house, I looked beyond. Just like the first house, I was not discouraged about what it was going to take to get from here to there.
Unlike the first house, I now knew precisely what it was going to take.
To get it from here...
... to something other than that.
Like maybe this.
