Not the house for us
The house we saw this rainy evening was, in a word, beautiful. The exterior wasndone in subtle Victorian colors and the small front and rear yards were perfectlynplanted and fenced in wrought iron. nThe inside was pristine. The pocket doors glided on their tracks, nthe plaster was intact and solid, the all original woodwork, complete withndentils, was stripped and oiled. The windows were set with leaded glass. nEven the basement was dry and spacious and the utilities were in excellent shape.nnAnd Maria disliked it from the moment we entered. She put on a good facenbut I could see she didn't care for the place at all as we walked around. nThe foyer ate up too much of the first floor. There was no room for both thencouch and piano on the first floor. nWith all the wainscotting and the large windows there wasnno wall space for bookshelves and there were no built-ins. The kitchen,nthree times the size of the cramped galley we make due with now, wasnnot large enough. The numerous rooms on the second and third floors were small. Some rooms were interconnected making her feel like she was inna warren. We would have to pare our things down or pack them in tightly.nIt was a long walk, several blocks, to the shops and stores and, the final problem, was that the neighborhood is served primarily by city-chartered buses because the two local subway lines are as far as the shops.nnSo it is a beautiful house. Perfect for some, but that some isn't us.