There's a sure fire way of figuring out what house you want to live in:  Go into one you can't afford.

Confused about rooms, layout, kitchens, yards, decks?  No matter.  Sort of by accident, find yourself in a house with smooth as butter wood floors.  The view catches both water and land and a whole lot of sky, every public room catching a glimpse, most bedrooms too.  The bathrooms--well, they have the gigantic tubs and artful showers, and tile from places I can't pronounce. 

I don't know construction from shinola, but Michael does and this was seamless, artful, and spared no expense.  Also, it would hold together during the next and promised earthquake.

I am almost afraid to write about the kitchen because aside from one flaw, it was an amateur chef's dream, and as that is what Michael is--he had a moment of prayer when we walked into the gleaming granite, stainless steel of every kind appliance room.  We genuflected and left.

All our guests--family and friends--would have a lovely place to sleep (a view, of course) and full baths to use.

We might have issues getting up to the top floor when our knees start going and our bones disintegrate, but we are hanging on, so it would be possible for a few years.

Our agent was appalled that she'd even let us come into the house, knowing that it was about 300,000 over our top, top, final price.  Swearing a few times, she threw us back into the car and we went down to Rockridge and a more reasonable house, but by then, we were both ruined.

Today we are going back out to see more houses.  We have to pack them in because next weekend, we are going away for Michael's birthday weekend extravaganza.  More than anything, I'm looking forward to not thinking about bathrooms, square footage, and hoods (that's what the wonderful kitchen did not have, if you can believe that).

Jessica