Sorry to inflict more real estate drama on you, but that’s just how I roll these days. Other people have Real Housewives of Whogivesabooger (no offense to watchers of said programs), and I have real estate porn. I feel good about the arrangement. Anyhoo, you dudes are going to pee in your pants when you see this place. I opened the little gateway thingamajig my fancy realtor sent me and nearly passed out from the goodness. It may be true that if you’re Richie F. Rich then better homes can be found, but better homes for 300K? I don’t think so. Behold.

That’s right. It’s 2300 sq ft of glass and marble. And it’s not mine. Ugh. The neighborhood is all wrong for us, but guess what? Next best thing — The Inlaws bought it!

I am so going to be hot tubbing it up this summer… while The Inlaws are babysitting Ike, natch. They may not be fully aware of this arrangement yet, so let’s keep it on the DL.

Did you see the pool? Did you see the windows? Did you see all the palms swaying ever so gently in the wind, whispering, Erin…. have another margarita? I want to swim here more than CBS wants Charlie Sheen back. The rest of the place ain’t too shabby, either.

There is a sure enough koi pond in the atrium next to the dining room.

Clerestory windows out the ass.

The master bedroom means bizness time.

Hot diggity dog, this place is insane but it needs paint and a kitchen reno for real. I have some ideas for its transformation, but I may be calling in the troops (that would be ya’lluns) for help as the situation unfolds. Excitement!

Know what else is sure to send you into atrial fibrillation?

Karly is coming back tomorrow.

Word.

This has probably been one of the most stressful weeks of my life. I think even squeezing a watermelon through my lemon was easier — at least we got a big fat prize at the end of that ordeal. After a week of waffling on two amazing homes that are totally within our budget to purchase AND renovate, we’re passing. We think. Jesus, my internal compass is so screwed up I don’t even know what my name is anymore. I feel like my arm has been amputated, and if someone asked me to wear a big black helmet and man the Death Star, I probably would.

Let’s review the properties, shall we?

#1 has an incredible view of Austin, all the way from downtown almost to San Marcos. It has vaulted ceilings, clerestory windows and a closet big enough to live in. It’s well located within town, but it’s also built at the corner of one of the worst highways in Austin. Plans to redo the highway include building a monster overpass right beneath this house that will make this quiet little neighborhood sound like it’s situated near an airport runway. Honestly, the Austin transportation authority is so screwy that it may never happen. But if it does… well, it would suck. A lot. Plus the office space and yard are not very functional for us.

#2 is a sprawling 70s rancher on close to an acre that backs to a gorgeous creek. It has all the space we’ll ever need, and tons of privacy. It’s also quite a hike from town, and part of the drive has to be made on one of the most highly trafficked and most hated roads in south Austin. Oh yeah, and that road runs right through the neighborhood. It sucks and it pretty much ruins the peace of this very pretty rural community. And did I mention that the commute blows? 30 minutes to downtown with no traffic, probably an hour to tech jobs up north. Ugh.

So that’s what we’ve been grappling with. Even typing this was hard, because I know some of you will tell me to buy one of them. And I’m also sure some of you are barfing at the thought of living in such humble abodes. But wouldn’t it have been fun to help me redo them?

Shit I’m all confused and feeling dark side again. Just call me Darth.

Yesterday I may have come across as a little… wound up. Well I still am, but I’m also trying to relax so we can make a clear headed decision. This weekend it seemed we may have two houses to choose from, and then we had one. And then we flip flopped back to the other one. And now we have neither? Who knows… maybe tomorrow we’ll be back to considering both.

The problem is that Austin is suffering from growing pains. Excellent schools are probably being closed due to budgetary constraints. New schools may be built elsewhere.

Traffic has been rerouted to flow through neighborhoods we like, and a giant highway flyover may be constructed right behind one of the houses we fell in love with. Or maybe it won’t. Should we gamble?

Thanks for listening, dudes. And for chiming in with your comments. Can I just tell you that I’m emotionally drained?

Right now this is all I dream of. Curling up in a fluffy white cloud and reading a classic novel — perhaps some Anna Karenina — would definitely put things into perspective for me.

At least none of the houses we’re considering are near a train.

[Head Over Heels]

How was your weekend? Ok, let me be honest: I’m not going to hear a single word you say in response to my question, because I am going insane. I did not have a sleepy, relaxing weekend. I did not take trapeze lessons. I did not even do the laundry. We did look at houses every single second of the day. While at first I felt confident that we may have a winner, with every second that separates me from the promising property my doubts double.

Did I mention that I’m going insane? Why can’t we just afford a house like this?

Honestly, as much as I like stuff n things I’m not an incredibly materialistic person. I don’t actually require a house of this scope and grandeur (require being the operative word, here). We like our current house and love our neighbors, but we need a place that can grow with our family (jeebus, I am old). Here’s a checklist of our priorities.

Needs: Good schools, another bedroom, within our budget, not crazy far from town.

Wants: Awesome architecture, lots more space, closer to town than we are now (hahahahaha!), financial comfort.

People who live in desirable urban areas, you know what I’m talking about when I say that the chances of all these things coming together in one affordable package is about as likely as a winged unicorn taking me for a ride over a rainbow and serenading me with a Foreigner song. In other words, it’s an awesome dream, but it ain’t gonna happen.

Let me summarize, thusly. Dream:

Reality:

$400,000 for a dilapidated disaster, wherein the roof has leaked all over the joint, the floor is rotting, the sunken bathtup is a death trap, the floorplan is a tragedy, the structure is built too close to the property line, and we are selling all our possessions to move into a house where will be forced to eat ramen for the next decade.

Great schools and fantastic location near town, though! Don’t cry — this isn’t the house we’re considering.

The state of close-in Austin real estate is abysmal. Remember this unforgettable house, one of the first we looked at back in 200freaking9, aka forever ago? (PS: that dent is still in our bumper). Those were the days.

Possibly maybe more news tomorrow. Right now I’m curious as to how you dudes prioritize your housing needs. What’s most important to you? Please distract me from this hideously depressing downward spiral.

I hope you have protective glasses on, because your retinas are in serious danger of permanent injury. Like, bleeding, pulpy masses of eye goo. In fact, I thought long and hard before posting this. Here at Design Crisis, we pride ourselves on posting pretty pictures. Sure, you may not always agree with our taste, but you must think that our offerings are aesthetically pleasing on some level.

I’m not sure how to put this delicately, but the following Houston McMansion may kill you. It will surely haunt your dreams. This is your final chance to run…

I hope you appreciate the mortal peril in which I have placed myself just to post these, but you probably don’t. You probably feel incredibly violated, and I can’t say I blame you. I can’t decide if this house or Rick Perry makes me more ashamed of being a Texan, so really this post is all about my guilt. Sorry.

You don’t have to agree with my politics, it’s cool. We can get together over drinks and discuss why you are wrong — I’ll still like you afterward. Hopefully, you will still like me. But you must agree this is one of the ugliest, gaudiest homes you have ever seen, otherwise you may need to get your jollies elsewhere. So, I guess there’s the line in the sand.

For everyone still reading this blog: I love you, and I promise I won’t ever hit you again.

See the whole travesty here, if you dare. Found via Curbed National.

ps: I kind of think the blue room is the worst. That ceiling fan! Discuss.

The recession is in full swing and real estate has taken a plunge, so that means if you want to sell your home, it’s gotta look good. And by “good” I mean clean, updated within the context of the neighborhood, and not crazy over personalized. I am not talking perfection, people. So this past weekend when we attended a few open houses, I was a wee bit shocked to encounter this, ahem, diamond in the rough. Cute neighborhood, lovely yard, and acres of square footage, but I knew as soon as we walked through the door and were asked to remove our shoes (so as not to sully the 20 year old carpet) that things were amiss…

Master bedroom.

Not a kid’s room.

The only redeeming room in the house was the Big Cat Room. This one’s for you, Karly.

Apologies for the crappy phone pictures, but I had to shoot fast for fear of discovery. My only regret is that I didn’t get a shot of the Navajo room, but then you may already have had more than you can take. It’s probably for the best.

Now, lest you think I’m a heartless asshole who hates pillows and stuffed puppies and crocheted coozies on zombie dolls, I’m really not. What you do on your own time is your business, but don’t expect for everyone else to think sleeping under a giant plastic clam shell is chic. Buyers are nigh incapable of seeing past such things — even me, and I’ve waded through mounds of rat turds while home shopping and still thought, “hmmmm… this has potential.”

Oh, and by the way, this home is priced higher than this one, which is surely proof that the housing market is on wack on crack.

I just spent the entire Labor Day weekend looking at homes with my inlaws, who are considering a move to Austin. While they were pretty glazed over by the end of our shopping whirlwind, I was totally keyed up, because I am crazy obsessed with real estate — like I tour houses in my sleep. Including houses I’ve looked at for myself, friends, family, and potential investment, I’ve probably been in hundreds of houses in Austin, so I thought maybe I’d start a little feature on Austin real estate.

Today’s home comes in at $295,000, and whether you think that is expensive or cheap probably depends on where you live now. For Austin, that’s about 100k above the median home price, but I’m just going to go ahead and say that it’s worth every penny.

The Clause Residence was designed in 1979 and features just over 2000 glorious sq ft of Memphis inspired deliciousness. I want to hole up and marathon watch Miami Vice (the original) up in here.

Since you know that the hubs, Ike, and I, are currently house shopping, you may be wondering why the bleep I haven’t already signed the papers on this piece of design history. I mean, never mind the fact that it only has two bedrooms — Ike and our future progeny can just bunk up, right?

Dudes, this house is so far from town, we may as well move to Waco.

Sadly, I was not able to tour this baby in person because it would have been an all day event, but I just know that it’s every bit as awesome as the pictures, and probably way more. I really hope there is somewhere out there that buy this house and do it up righteous, and then they better invite me over for a pool party. You know… as a finder’s fee.

Check out the MLS listing and more pics here.

Now that we’ve invested huge amounts of time and money into renovating our kitchen, landscaping the yard, and decorating the house, I’ve decided it may be time to move, which makes total sense to all you design junkies, right? So this weekend, Hunny Bunny, the baby, Karly and I, solicited the help of our realtor friend Kurt to look at a house in one of the most amazing neighborhoods in Austin — Travis Heights. Oh, Travis Heights, how I love thee! When we drove into the hood, I thought about living within walking distance of the shops at South Congress, and I looked at families pushing strollers down tree lined streets with a misty sense that this could be our new life.

And how cute is this 1930s house? With a little paint and some new plants, it could be killer. Plus, did I mention that the neighborhood rocks, and the lot is STUNNING.

Yep, that’s your own personal creek running through a little patch of wilderness, 5 minutes from downtown, 5 seconds from South Congress. Insane, is what that is. And astonishingly, it’s (barely) within our budget. Hmmm.

As we pulled into the carport, Karly started her “Unh, uh” routine. Ok, so the backside of the house was a little ramshackle… The picture above captures about 1/3 of the length of the house. The carport was caving in, there appeared to be a strange 1980s addition tacked onto the back, there were about 500 doors opening to various outdoor areas, and the landscaping was a bit odd, but still workable. What can you expect at such a bargain basement price? And then we walked inside.

Is this part of an old garage? What’s up with the “stairs” to nowhere? How come that doorway appears to be mounted upside down on the wall??? Why oh why does it smell like death in here…?

Ben held the baby into the mystery opening to get a closer look, and Ike — who heretofore was perfectly placid — started screaming BLOODY MURDER, which is obviously what took place in this room vampire cave. Now, normally I’d go spelunking to check out the “vintage” furniture in there, but I figured Ike knew something I didn’t. Obviously, he sees dead people. After that, things got hazy. Karly declared the house was “haunted as shit,” and decided to take Ike outside to calm him down, but I was not to be deterred from a bargain by a few measly poltergeists.

We pressed on to the 80s wing, which featured lovely wall to wall carpet in red — to hide the bloodstains, naturally. Sadly, I didn’t get a picture of the leg breaking spiral staircase straight out of Vertical Limit, or the disgusting bathrooms, but truly, these things were only pedestrian gross. You’ve seen them before. But I bet you’ve never seen this:

I’m just going to give you a second to reflect on the situation.

There is a TREE in the middle of the house — in the kitchen, for goodness sake, which is somehow even more offensive. And lest a tiny part of you think that it might be cool to have a tree in your kitchen, remember the other rooms. Whoever built this patchwork piece of shit house built it out of plywood, cardboard and duct tape. The roof leaked all around the hole where the tree is, and a foundation was laid over the tree roots. Not good planning.

Plus it looks like sandworms from Beetlejuice are attacking the exterior of the home, and nobody wants that.

Here’s another shot from the other side. DO NOT be fooled by my pretty picture. Imagine filth, crappy construction, and cheap materials everywhere. It is completely uninhabitable, and I have a VERY high tolerance for fixer uppers. Somehow I neglected to get pictures of the random door that opens onto an unstable, unfenced roof (dangerous, much?), or the creepy door to yet another pit of hell under the house that looks to be the spot where Buffalo Bill held his victims in Silence of the Lambs. The only thing that will save this house is a bulldozer.

And it’s sad, you know? The original house was probably 1000 square feet, with period hardwoods and built ins, and it was tiny and cute. Then some morons decided they should add on 2000 square feet of crappy disconnected boxes, with absolutely no floorplan in mind, and they ruined it. Plus there are the dead bodies. I know they’re in there somewhere — Ike saw them.

Oh, and when we left, Ben backed into a stupid, random brick mailbox that had fallen and was laying in the driveway. Our bumper is totally dented in, and now we have to hire a man that actually goes by the name of “Crackhead” to pull the dent out.

But, guess what? I was never so happy to pull into our driveway and walk into our own nice, remodeled house. So, stay tuned for my dining room makeover on Wednesday. I figure that — relative to this gem — it’s gotta look amazing.

*************************************************************************

UPDATE!

Kurt sent me the pictures he took that day:

Just a lil group shot. You can totally tell Ike is screaming his head off. Also, Karly is too tall to live in this hobbit house.

I have also been informed that “Kentucky” will be fixing our bumper instead of “Crackhead.” Good to know.