For Sale at Thanksgiving: We Could Make a Life Here

Yeah, man. This is the pad. I mean, the rent is right. Bill used to live in this house, but he's gone now, off adjuncting somewhere, but I'm still here and the Graduate Teaching Assistantship pays the bills, yanowhatimean. Well, my paycheck combined with Susan's, that is.

Yep, this is the place. I can't wait to move my stuff in to this room and start really creating. Look at this space! It's inspiring. Those little windows are awesome. One opens up into nothing--just a piece of board with some cloth hanging over it--and the other one opens into the kitchen. Like a pass-through.  Speaking of passing, can you pass that back to me? Thanks.

Check it: that's my hat. When I wear that hat and shuffle around this house with a whiskey and water in my hand, I get the sensation, you know? The spirit of the writer. Susan insisted on those bedside tables. They're nice, though.

Here's the kitchen. Susan's always saying the cabinets are too low and she can't see what she's doing when she's trying to make things on the countertop. Hey, nothing's perfect, right? And it's not like she's cooking anything complex; I mean, how closely do you have to examine a kale salad? You just throw the stuff in the bowl, really.

Hey, maybe you can settle this debate. Do you think that used to be a window, there, in between the other two windows? Susan says yes, but I think it was an artistic choice to design the wall that way. 

And yes, the piece de resistance: look at this yard. Can you imagine the parties we'll have out here? I have real visions for this piece of land. I'm going to fix up those little toolsheds and rake and get everything set up just perfectly. 

Final Verdict: Honey, remember grad school? It all came back a little too vividly when I looked at the pictures of this house. Let's mark it off the list.

For Sale in Arkansas: Simulate Your Own Hibachi

This kitchen is really not totally sufficient for the hibachi-like experience I think they're trying to capture, because although they've got the seating right, the actual hibachi is missing. Oh well.

But really: bar seating for eight? And those look like good quality chairs, too. I'm picturing some harried mom in here in the mornings trying to slop milk into eight cereal bowls while kids climb all over those chairs like mice on a wheel in the pet store.

Final Verdict: Dear God, please never put me in a position in life where I need to seat eight people at my breakfast bar on a regular basis.