AM I FLIPPING CRAZY????

I’m contemplating a flip.  Yes, the year is 2010….yes, I said flip.  Actually, I shouldn’t demean it by using the “f” word; I should say, I’m contemplating a rehab for sale.  But, it is still 2010 – the era of double dip recessions, housing market slumps….your basic gloom and doom that keeps everyone poised for financial Armageddon.  HA!  I spit in the face of such economic nihilism and contemplate ways to spend, spEND, SPEND!!!!  Someone has to raise the GDP; why not little old me?

Alright, back down to earth here.  So, it seems like I might be coming late to the phenomenon of flip - ‘er rehabbing, but I really wasn’t looking for it.  Sort of like the mythical butterfly that lands on your shoulder after you quit chasing it.  Granted, that was supposed to apply to the love of my life, but in his absence, a flea infested, mold infected, erstwhile anarchist hippy house will have to do.

I live in Asheville, NC and we have a plethora of early 1900s bungalow long on charm.  I know because I live in one of them.  I’ve actually been getting the itch to move lately, but that’s definitely not what this is about.  When I fly my current coop, it will probably be for a home that jives with my new contemporary aesthetic (barf, I know… I mainly say this just because I like how it makes my friends roll their eyes).  I do want my next home to be a change of pace, though, with bigger pastures for my two office assistants / dogs.  So, mark my words, if this goes through, I will not fall in love with the fruits of my labor and ditch one bungalow for another, even though this new prospect is in a comparatively higher rent district than my own.  My street is a little saltier, but it’s been home for 9 years and home it will stay until something drastically different comes along.

The new house in question (pictures to follow of course) is actually about the same age as my own….built in 1906.  It’s sort of the step-child of the street, surrounded by larger homes that are still in the craftsman / foursquare vein but with a bit more, um, lipstick and eye shadow we’ll say.  The new house, we’ll call her 71 because, well, that’s her address, is pretty straight forward.  Looked at from the street, she’s a one story bungalow with an L-shaped front porch and an overgrown (and luscious) Japanese maple that has managed to thrive despite the wild dogs, children, and assorted livestock I’ve seen in the front yard (I swear, I saw either chickens or goats).  71 is in the middle of my dog walk and so I’ve witnessed her gradual decline over the years.  She’s actually been really useful to me.  Because her owners have been largely laissez faire types, they never really brought their trash can in or out, so it served as my dog poop deposit box.  This is kind of gross when you consider that they also didn’t really bother to pull the can all the way out to the street so that the trash truck lifter thingy could get to it.  So, the trash (and poop bags) just piled up.  Hey, I’m slightly ashamed to admit that I continued to dump there (pardon the pun), but have you ever walked for thirty minutes juggling a dog, an i-Phone, and a full poop bag?  I rest my case.

But I digress…moving to the back of the yard, you see that the lot slopes down and that there is a lower floor that I come to find holds two of the bedrooms and one bath.  It’s a small lot, but most lots are in this neighborhood and did I mention that it’s basically two blocks away from downtown Asheville?  Great street, great location, not great house….not yet anyway!