DINKs: Hearth and Home

Now that summer is fast approaching, it’s time for everyone in the southland to take on our typical relaxed air and stop to enjoy our natural beauty. From the tops of the majestic Smoky Mountains all the way down to the local fireworks stand, everyone is exchanging long pants for shorts, firing up the grill, and getting ready for another wonderful summer.
Except for me.
No, it looks like my summer is going to be spent in the pursuit of a new money-pit. The wife in her infinite wisdom has looked over the numbers, carefully calculated the budgets, and decided that the time is right for us to purchase a new home.
What this means to me is a string of endless weekends spent driving around the quiet neighborhoods of Sevier County instead of doing things I want to be doing. Like almost anything else.
It’s not that it isn’t pleasant, driving around peaceful subdivisions on a sunny Saturday afternoon. It might be enjoyable, if there weren’t so many other factors involved.
Typically, the day of house-hunting starts with us waking up to a late start. That’s because the night before we were up until 3 a.m. poring over the internet looking for daylight targets.
“Okay, here’s the next one,” she would say, scrolling around with her mouse. “It’s got the two-car garage, it’s less than ten years old, and we can get cable there. That’s all of the ‘must-haves’ on our list.”
“Wait a minute,” I’d interject. “There isn’t a roof on the structure.”
“So? I already said it had all the ‘must-haves.’”
“Um, maybe we should extend that list a bit, then.”
We don’t really have a long list of deal-killers on our search. So why is it taking so long to find a home we both like?
DINKs like us only need a few things: cable, because they offer the best internet connections and an economical entertainment package, a two-car garage to protect our newest family additions from the elements, and a relatively new structure with modern wiring (we have a lot of electronics) and plumbing (we take a lot of showers together).
There are a few things we’d also like to have, but they are really just icing on the cake.
For instance, a fenced back yard would be nice for the dogs to run around in. Eventually it would become a daily exercise in futility as we tried to keep the dachshunds from tunneling under. These sorts of mental and physical challenges are what make life worth complaining about, so I’m philosophical about any fence that doesn’t actually run underground and wrap around to the other side of the yard.
Fireplaces are useful if you’re into burning things. As it turns out, the wife is a pyromaniac when it comes to dinner, but I can’t imagine her cooking in a fireplace. The last time that happened over a Hallowe’en holiday, she managed to chip the bricks trying to make popcorn. The way I figure it, she’ll have the kitchen itself turned into a walk-in fireplace before very long, so a formal one isn’t necessary.
A central location isn’t as important, either. Without kids, we don’t worry about school proximities. Well actually, we do, but only because of her vision problems while driving.
Being at the top or side of a mountain is just fine with us. We’d probably prefer the view to that of the neighbor’s house anyway.
Speaking of neighbors, it’s probably best if we don’t have any. Besides the unruly beasts we call our pets running amok, there’s always the danger that our strangeness may accidentally rub off on someone and leave them seeking professional help. Who wants that on their conscience?
So while our needs are few, we still haven’t found the place we’re looking for. Someplace to put down roots and make our place in the county. Someplace to call home for the next thirty years. Someplace to sink many thousands of dollars of equity into.
Last weekend, while driving past one address that we’d tagged on the internet as being available, we noticed a young man of approximately 14 firing at us repeatedly from the picture window in the front room with a toy rifle.
At least, I hope it was a toy rifle. Not because I was afraid of being shot, but that I’d be really disturbed by the concept of a real rifle painted acid green with a fuchsia barrel. And then being shot by one.
For such a simple action, it sort of summed up house-hunting for us. Soon, I expect to see signs going up next to the realtor’s ads that would bring back the good old days in a bad old way.
“DINKs need not apply.”