In the end, I found a home I liked a whole lot (and still do), but had to deviate a bit from my wish-list in exchange for the overall package. I got hardwood floors and a small porch, but my house is fireplace-free.

I was still jazzed to move in, and became even more so when, upon entering, I saw a refrigerator, left behind by the last owner! I celebrated with a happy dance on the echoing dining room floor. As a few weeks went by, I gradually found other ‘bequeathed’ stuff: a cool latte mug in a cupboard; a large bag of salt to scatter on the front walk when Michigan’s ice and snow came; a festive fall flag to hang from the front porch. After hearing stories about folks who take every remaining possession away with them, including such things as the light bulb from the inside of the oven, these were all nice discoveries.

My house had built-in surprises too. I especially loved the laundry drop built into the pink-tiled bathroom wall (no carrying!), and the mailbox two steps outside my front door. I figured the convenience of amenities like these were balanced by odd and infuriating features like, say, the third bedroom’s overall yellow-ness (even the ceiling was painted) and the way all the house’s internal doors had been painted over. Get this: the door jambs were painted (some no longer latched). The hook-locks were painted -- to the door. Tape placed on one door long ago hadn’t been removed before painting (it still peeks through today). I’m no handywoman, but even I knew immediately: that ain’t right.