The other day, Kurt and I were driving through Lambertville, NJ. For those of you who don’t know it, it’s an incredibly picturesque town. There’s a main street with shops and B&Bs that look like they haven’t changed in the past 200 years. Outside of town is the countryside – rolling green hills, dotted here and there with old homes and sheep. It’s this Lambertville I love. I challenge anyone who’s ever made fun of New Jersey (you who think The Jersey Shore is an accurate portrayal of the Garden State) to come here, drive the tiny, winding dirt roads and not fall in love. It’s impossible.
When we drive out there, I prefer Kurt to drive so I can take in the scenery and dream about one day owning one of the old, historical farmhouses. I am, you see, a realtor’s dream. I love old homes. The older, the better. Once, while passing a gorgeous stone farmhouse, I remarked how much I’d love to live there. Kurt, being the practical fuddy duddy that he is, scoffed and replied that it would be too “drafty”. Charming is what I’d call it. I can just imagine the conversations with our future Realtor. “This beautiful stone farmhouse was built in 1865 and has crown molding in every room and 18 foot ceilings.” “Ok…” Kurt would say, waiting for the “but”. Little would either of them know she would have had me at “crown molding”.
Kurt and I would argue about the practicality of it. Our realtor would begin with the “buts:” “It’s drafty and there’s barely heat,” she’d say. “It’ll be just like college when I slept in sweats because I couldn’t afford heat! It’ll be great to relive those years!” I’d reply. “It’s only accessible by a one-lane, but not one way, dirt road…” “How charming!” “…that often gets washed out during storms…” “I’m sure they have hybrid SUVs now!” “…and is completely inaccessible when it snows.” “I’ll talk to my boss about working from home on the 100 or so days a year we have any sort of precipitation. I’m sure that won’t be an issue.” “There’s no air conditioning and window units will blow a fuse.” “How quaint! I've always wanted ceiling fans!” “There’s a resident ghost that rips blankets off people in their sleep.” “I love a home with character!”
What I don’t understand is why new houses can’t be built to resemble old ones. I would love central air and a finished basement that didn’t flood during a drizzle, but in my opinion, new homes lack character and attention to detail. Where’s the crown molding? The molded plaster ceilings 18 feet off the floor? The tall windows? The antique doorknobs? Yes, ok. Some of those things MIGHT be a little inefficient when it comes to energy use, but still!
My love of things "old and shitty" as Kurt so eloquently puts it, does not end with houses. In fact, on this same trip to Lambertville, we stopped at an antiques flea market. Now, I am not usually much into flea markets and I don’t like knick knacks (clutter makes me uncomfortable). However. This place was amazing. I wanted to buy everything I saw. There was a $3,000 antique double bathroom sink that I fell in love with at first sight. And Kurt actually had to DRAG me away from an antique typewriter from 1911. “But it’s only $90!” I argued, unwilling to tear my eyes away from its beauty. “And what are we going to do with it? You hate clutter!” He had me there. But I resisted. “It’s art!” Eventually, I walked away, sadly looking back every few steps like a forlorn lover, trying desperately to find a practical reason why I needed this antique typewriter that surely I'd never use. I never did find a practical reason. But, as we all know, love is anything but practical.
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