The Look

The six miles between points A & Bungalow.

When we were driving to the house on Saturday morning, we took our usual route: Illinois to Georgia to Missouri to Sixteenth to Second to Linden.  Halfway through the drive, you're still pretty much in Petworth, where we have lived for the last nine-or-so years.  But when you turn right onto Sixteenth, you enter a new world; that of Shepherd Park.  If you're unfamiliar with that neighborhood, I can only describe it as one of the most attractive you can have while still being on a major street in a major city.  The homes are large and expensive, although not all grand.  Most are from the 1920s I'd guess, although there are a few conspicuous 1970s modern specimens that look like they'd be more comfortable on a cliff somewhere along the Pacific.  A few have turrets, a few have ivy-covered walls, and a most are brick of one color or another.  Dotted amongst these stately homes are at least two synagogues and an atheist gathering spot, as well as the back side of the old Walter Reed complex.  At one end is the side entrance to Rock Creek Park, and at the other is a traffic circle on the Maryland border with one of the District of Columbia boundary stones in the middle.  This is the top of the diamond, geographically and economically, where all of the east-west streets are named after plants, in alphabetic order of course, rather than after the obscure statesmen you'll find in the rest of the city.

Our former neighbor Angie's gorgeous Craftsman in
Shepherd Park.  I wonder if she knows her house
is now featured in at least two local blogs?

When I drive the six miles from one house to the other, I'm often taken to dreaming about living in one of those houses.  Maybe the one with the huge magnolia out front and the bay windows over looking the park.  Or maybe the one with the amazing slate roof and the arched doorways and the understated cars in the back that cost well into the six figures.  Or even one on a sidestreet near, say, the corner of Geranium and Alaska, where our former neighbors have a gorgeous Craftsman Bungalow.  I know I'd never be able to live in this area, because it's out of my tax bracket, but who doesn't like to dream a bit?  Well, I was dreaming out loud on Saturday morning, and I think I hurt Abby's feelings.  I probably went a bit overboard by mentioning all the imperfections of the house I did own: the fact there was no basement or attic; that we'd have little privacy; that we'll be a mile from a Metro station; that we won't have a garage; that we will forever have to deal with a homeowners' association and an historical society; that we have terribly inefficient windows and a loud HVAC system and a huge water heater and a tiny bedroom and will forever be shooing people out of our parking spots.  And we live too close to that tiny industrial area off Linden, and the Beltway can be really loud at times.  And suddenly, Abby was giving me the look.  You know the one: "Are you serious? Are we not a week away from finishing into a project we've spent two years on? And you're dreaming about these houses that are easily three times the price ours will be when it's all finished?"  Well, if you don't know the look, I know the look.  After all, I have experienced it many, many times in the nine-plus years we've been married.

I had to explain to Abby that, sure, things aren't perfect in the house, but they wouldn't be in one of these either.  She asked whether I'd take any one of these as an even trade with the Bungalow if someone offered. Of course they'd have to be ridiculous to offer.  I mean, the houses at the top of the street have all that, and are walking distance to the Metro to boot, for Pete's sake!  It would make no economic sense for me not to do that trade.  But the thing is, that's not an option, because I know the entire zip code came up goose eggs for us when we were searching for homes in our price range, or even a bit above it, back in 2011 when we were house hunting.  And the market has only gotten stronger since.  Plus, no matter how perfect the house, we'd still have to do tons of stuff to it to make it "ours," and who wants to go through that again?  My sister asked us Saturday night whether we'd do a project like this again, considering all we'd gone through.  We shrugged and looked at each other, and pretty much in sync said we would, but only once the kids had moved out.  My sister was incredulous.  We were unfazed.

No, the Bungalow is not my perfect house by any means.  But it's a heck of a lot better than this place.  No, it's not fair to compare a medium-sized single-family home in the leafy suburbs with an English Basement in the District, especially when there are four of you, but these four months have made me wistful for the days we had a dishwasher, when we could use the laundry facilities without having to knock or grovel, when we didn't have to duck to get into our own door, when our kids had separate rooms and ours was not a hallway between theirs and the bathroom, when one of us could go to sleep early and wouldn't be kept awake by the sound of the TV or the computer keyboard ten feet away, when we had a family-sized fridge and an microwave that didn't have to be plugged in with a retractable extension cord.  When we had a dining room table, and the kids didn't have to sit on the floor to eat dinner.  When the toilet wasn't on the wall behind the stove.

The Embassy of the Republic of Congo:
Who would not want to live in this place?

I'm going to love the Bungalow.  In just the past ten days, I've gotten really, genuinely excited about the place at least three times, and I'm itching to go back up there, since it's been over 100 hours now since I last visited.  I'm going to love the new space we'll have-- and not compared to the basement, but to the house we were last in at Thanksgiving.  I'm going to love being able once again to host friends and family when they trek up, down, or over to see us and/or our city.  I'm going to love the view of the glen when I'm making dinner, or the sound of my kids playing on my grandma's piano downstairs, or being able to let the kids play outside all on their own as a regular habit.  But it's like being married: I made my choice, but I'm not dead.  There's no reason I shouldn't be able to wonder what it'd be like to live in that building that houses the Congolese Embassy on Sixteenth and Colorado.  And just because I will fantasize about living in walking distance to the kids' elementary school or staying within the five blocks we currently are from a Metro station, it doesn't mean I won't completely get a kick out of seeing deer stand on their hind legs to eat from the century-old yews in my yard, or enjoy the moment when I realize I know the names of more than three of my neighbors.

So please, even if I complain, be it about any of the things above, or any number of other things I haven't mentioned this time around --cost and schedule overruns, anyone?-- know that I'm really, truly, honestly excited to live in this place, and to get this part of my life started already.  And the only thing I'm resigned to is the fact that I'll never stop giving Abby reason to give me that look.  You know the one.

Home.  Almost.

Firming plans, Parking signs

So we just met with Mark and Mohamed to firm up our plans, and it seems like everyone's on the same page now.  Some lines were moved around since the last time we met (I promise I'll get the plans on the site as soon as we get an electronic copy.) and, alas, I have lost my bid for a laundry chute.  It's weird because the front porch is much bigger than I had thought, and I just assumed a chute where I thought it could be would drop right into the laundry room... but instead, it would be a big hole in the family room ceiling.  Not so good!  We finalized that although Isaac will get a bigger room, Lola will get a bigger closet (Mark told Lola to remember this detail when she was in her teens), and we also now understand our bedroom will be a whopping 91 square feet.  Yeah, 9.5' x 9.5'.  And 7' x 5' of that will be our bed.  We went home last night and measured it out around our bed, and figured we'll actually have more space on one side than we do now, given the crazy placement of Abby's grandpa's armoire at the foot of our bed.  (I can't wait to get that thing outta my room!  I bank into it constantly because it doesn't close properly.)



Our poorly numbered entranceway

 So I was told by some readers that there has been all talk and no action lately, and although that is very much the truth, there supposedly was some action yesterday after I left.  Immediately south of the house are four pull-in parking spaces; the two on the right are posted as belonging to the windmill, and the two on the left have empty posts-- they're ours.  I went to the manager's office and asked when ours will go up on those posts, so that when we go there we'll actually be able to park (and not have to park all the way over in the common lot or steal one of the windmill spaces...).  Funny enough, apparently the signs were printed a while ago, but no one knew where they went, because they say "9618 Dewitt Drive."  Yeah, that's our address.  But the thing is, the house has two different numbers by the front door, and neither is 9618: one, 106, is the building number from when the house was part of Walter Reed; the other, in the 2800s, is an address on Dewitt Circle, which we front.  No idea when that went into effect, but it isn't our address, and now it's screwed up not only the local mailman but also the parking people.  Dave thanked me for checking something off his list and for allowing him to get random signs out of his office.  Can't wait to park in my own space next time we're up there... that is, if someone isn't bogarting it!

The four spaces behind our house.  Notice our car parked in one of the marked spaces... Sorry, Richard!

Finally, there's a debate Abby and I are having about the downstairs bathroom.  It's one Abby's probably going to win, mostly because it's not something that matters a crazy amount to me, but I figured I'd bring it up anyhow... What do you all think about seeing a toilet when a bathroom door is opened?  I had never considered that it's something that does or doesn't happened, that it's something people plan around.  Have any of you ever planned a bathroom so you can't see a toilet while standing outside the bathroom and looking through the door?  Do any of you have bathrooms that allow for prime toilet viewing from afar?  I'd be interested to know.  Anyhow, the real debate stems from this one: would it make more sense to halve a medium-sized bathroom so the shower and toilet are behind a wall (and door... gotta get in somehow) and the sinks and cabinetry are in a separate room?  Abby says when she was growing up, she would be late to a lot of stuff because her brother was taking too long in the bathroom (and it would never have been the other way around!).  Since Isaac and Lola will be sharing this bathroom and may be in the same schools and therefore on the same schedule, especially in high school, this is an interesting point.  I like a bigger bathroom, just to have more air, but I see where she's coming from.  Any ideas?

We're on the map!

After a monthlong back-and-forth with Google, our house is finally on the map!  When we first started looking at the place, none of the local streets were listed on Google Maps; they were all stubs coming off the main road (Linden Lane).  But the satellite imagery was there, so it's not like Google hadn't seen the place or anything.  (Unlike Courtney & Chris's place, which is still in various stages of construction when you see it online.  I wrote in and opened up several "issues" with Google, and now all are fixed.  They put in all the streets, labeled them correctly, put the addresses in correctly, and got rid of the gray shading that showed it had been part of Walter Reed Army Annex, which now ends south of Linden instead of extending to the Beltway.  (Our property had been part of the Annex.  Wounded soldiers recuperated on the grounds during WWII, and officers were housed up through the early 1980s.)  Now all of my neighbors can thank me for making it easier for people to get to their homes.  (You're welcome, neighbors...)  Anyhow, all of those issues are fixed, and here are the results!



Google Maps: 9618 Dewitt Drive



The Seminary Grounds, with properties labeled.



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hi Gregory,

Google Maps has been updated to correct the problem you reported. You can see the update here, and if you still see a problem, please tell us more about the issue:  Link to view and/or reopen issue

Report history
Problem ID: C468-E278-5ADA-F7E6

Your report: Dewitt Dr., Dewitt Ct., and Dewitt Cir. are all labeled as Dewitt Cir. Just the circle should be Dewitt Cir. Just the court sticking up at the far right (east) should be Dewitt Ct. The rest, from Hume to Dewitt Cir., and from Dewitt Cir. to Linden Lane (which is not even marked as a street on your map) is Dewitt Dr. It's possible you don't have Dewitt Dr. marked as a street because it passes under a building. But rest assured, it is there!

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Thanks for your help,
The Google Maps team New! This email was sent because you clicked "Report a Problem" on Google Maps. We thought you should know that you can now edit the map yourself, on Google Map Maker.