The House That JP Built

Virgil's recent stories of moving into her new home got me thinking about my own dreams of being an esteemed property owner and having my own house. Of course, such speculations are completely baseless at the moment, given that I can barely afford to pay rent even with a roommate. Still, a gentleman with too much time on his hands can dream... even if those dreams can't be fulfilled for another decade.

Location is always an important component, and I don't think I'd really like to live out in the middle of nowhere. Having spent the first ten years of my life in town where the houses are about a foot apart and then living the next fifteen years on a solitary hillside, I've experienced both extremes. I think I lean towards preferring the former arrangement with enough space added to keep me from knowing my neighbors far too intimately. Living in an apartment has its perks, but I'd like to have a decent yard with some room for nude sunbathing. However, I also don't want to have to hike a half a mile to see my nearest neighbor. There's a big difference between solitude and loneliness, and if I spent my life in some desolate rural field, I think I'd become quite the Lonely Larry. People may baffle me, but I like being around them.

But enough about the property. Let's talk about the actual structure. First, I want a big ass porch. I want to be able to go chillax on the front porch with a cold beer while hollering at the little kids to stay off my lawn. There's something chillingly uninviting about a house that has no porch. As proof, imagine any house where there's a front door with no porch and then a side door with an alluring deck or patio. I guarantee that everyone uses that side door. Porches are where you distribute candy on halloween. It's where you can play cards on a rainy night. It's a sleeping space for the cat during warm months. You can even let homeless people sleep there for a small fee. What's not to love?

Another absolute must have: BIG ceilings. My current apartment has surprisingly high ceilings for a Pittsburgh apartment, and that's an excellent trend that I plan to continue for my future dwellings. There's nothing more uncomfortable and rather claustrophobic than for me to be in a space where I have an inch or less clearance above my head. I feel like Gulliver in the land of Lilliput. Equally irritating are low-hanging chandaliers and other lighting fixtures of that nature. Mrs. Former-Employer had very high ceilings in her castle-home, but right in the center of her library/office was a bulky chandalier hanging 6'4" off the ground. I'm 6'5". I think I've lost the brain cells necessary to calculate how many times I've whanged my head off of that thing.

This is a guilty Englishy pleasure, but I'd also love to have a library in my house. One of the few tangible symbols of my education (because a salary sure isn't one of them) is my vast collection of books. I already have three stuffed bookcases, and I'm sure I'll acquire even more in no time flat. Nothing screams high-class muckity-muck like having a library. It'll adjoin my parlor and sitting room, and then my guests and I will retire to the study.

These are all legitimate desires on my part, but then my geeky side kicks in with its own ridiculous wishes that add a whole new meaning to the concept of "dream home." I'd be happy with a completely normal library, but imagine how much more epic it would be if I could pull out one book and have one of the cases slide away to reveal a secret passageway!? And what if my swanky and spacious porch also contained a trap door just in front of the entrance so that unwanted visitors could be dropped into an underground pool of maneating alligators? And despite the architectural nightmare and safety concerns, a long curved staircase with a slick bannister that I could slide down would put an extra spring in my step every morning.

I actually have an unhealthy infatuation with the houses in the Regent Square neighborhood of Pittsburgh. Not only do they all have extremely large and ornate front porches, but they're large, close but with enough space for comfort, and old enough that they probably already have secret passageways and Victorian staircases. And they're solid structures too. I don't think there's anything more tacky than these houses in planned communities where the front has this elaborate facade of brick and windows while the other three sides have nothing but plain siding and a shabby deck. The houses in Regent Square are solid brick (or sometimes stone) all around, and they seem to look good from any angle. They don't make houses together like that with such care anymore.

On the other hand, those houses probably require the GDP of a small country to heat during the winter, but dammit, I still think they look awesome. And Regent Square has so much cool stuff along Braddock Avenue that I could die a happy man living there. It's called "Regent Square" for crying out loud. It couldn't sound more regal if it were called "Platinum Viceroy's Royal Palace."

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"Our street is us and we are it. Our street is where we like to be, and it looks like all our dreams."