Today is our three year Houseiversary!
It was three years ago today a moving company loaded up our belongings onto a truck and made the arduous 1km journey from our condo to our little yellow bungalow. It’s true, we only moved 1km. The thing with moving though, is it doesn’t matter whether you’re moving 1km or 1000km. It’s still the same amount of work and it’s still a huge pain in the ass.
Thankfully, that’s all behind us now. Three years behind us, and in honor of this momentous occasion, I’ve put together a chronological list of my past homes.
This house was built by my Great Grandfather in the 1940s.
My parents bought it from him in the 1970s and we lived there until I was 9. For a few years before we moved, I had the run of the entire second floor. The floor had just undergone a renovation that included the addition of padded window seats in the dormers. I loved this house.
Sadly, our neighbourhood was on the decline and my parents wanted something bigger, so they put our little red house on the market. It sold faster than expected but they hadn’t found a new one yet, so we moved in with my grandparents for a few months.
Their house was quite large considering the neighbourhood and era it was built. That was a good thing because during the fall of 1984 it was home to me, my mom and dad, my uncle, my grandparents and their poodle. Also, for a while, during the week a second cousin, who was completing a teaching apprenticeship in town, was also crashing there. To break it down for you, that was six adults, one child, plus a dog and there was only one full bathroom for this entire crew. I don’t know how, but somehow, we made it work.
This house was built by my Papa in the 1950s and it had all kinds of quirky built in shelves and cupboards. My Dad is a skilled woodworker with an eye for design. Thinking about his boyhood home, it’s clear where he gots this from.
This was my Dad’s room:
How cute is that built in desk and wardrobe?
I drove by the house recently and I was mortified to see the new owners have since replaced the octagon window with a square shaped one. It really takes away from the original charm and aesthetic of the house.
By Christmas that same year we moved into a split level ranch and a new cookie cutter neighbourhood, where every other house on the street is a split level ranch. It’s a nice house though, it just didn’t have as much character as our old one.
When I was 19, I began what I refer to as my nomadic period. I started out in a student residence at the University of Windsor, moved home for the summer, then another residence, then a house in the student ghetto, then residence again, then another house.
Next, I moved into a basement apartment Near Niagara College, then I commandeered a race car bed from the four year old son of a distant cousin for a few months before I moved into a 2 bedroom townhouse with a roommate in London, Ontario. Quickly realizing I was too old for the roommate thing, I left for a cozy second floor apartment in an old farmhouse. Work soon led me to the greater Toronto area, so I camped out up in my cousin’s loft in Toronto for a few months. I slept in a sleeping bag on sofa bed under her stairs while I worked two jobs and looked for an apartment. Then in December of 2000, I finally moved my belongings to an apartment in Burlington.
Until my late 20s, I was basically Danielle Todd of no fixed address.
My Burlington apartment is actually less than a block from where we currently live (mine was the one on the top right hand side of the building). It was the ultimate bachelorette pad and was not just my home, but a weekend refuge for my girlfriends, who were all married or cohabitating with their significant others at the time. My place was the last boy free zone among us, and most weekends my living room was full of sleeping bags, bottles of wine and laughter.
Then I met Jeremy and we bought a townhouse down the street. My friends were happy for us but were a little upset about losing the space they considered a second home. There was some (wine soaked) talk of pooling our resources and keeping the apartment but it just wasn’t realistic.
We’d bought the townhouse as a starter home with the intention of moving into something larger in 5 years. We lived there for 4 years and 11 months. I love it when a plan comes together!
That brings us back to the present. Three years in our little house and we look forward to many more.