0 comments / Posted on by Erin Gates


Currently I find myself faced with the decision of city life versus my own four walls and roof somewhere outside the city.  I have maintained forever that I am more sidewalks than picket fences, until I fell in love with a home a few weeks ago in a suburb a mere 8 miles from downtown Boston where I currently reside.  An old cottage built in 1850 I walked in and immediately imagined my life there (and what wallpaper would grace the entry and rug would run stylishly up the old stairs).  The realtor told us we needed to decide almost immediately if we wanted to make an offer as she already had two withing the first six days on the market (real estate woes have not hit metro Boston from what I can tell).  In one afternoon I had to decide if I was ready for suburban life…without children yet.  I’ve made that decision before and bought a house for life I had not yet decided I wanted and it turned out to be an expensive mistake. A published one that got me lots of business, but a mistake still.

So having an afternoon to make this massive decision left me in serious turmoil in which I flopped and moped about my office whining to my assistant and asking her to make the decision for me. No pressure.  We made an offer, a tentative one, and because we didn’t go in guns a-blazin’, we lost the house to someone else. And in true Erin form, I have been miserably kicking myself ever since.  We’ve looked at other homes, in both the city and suburbs, and I keep comparing them to the dream cottage I missed out on.  But one thing is clear, the suburbs are no longer off the table.  I have been shocked by how charming and interested I am in the possibility of living not right in the heart of things, where I can go two blocks and have a million restaurants and a wine shop where they know my name (probably an issue I should look into.)  But rather having place where I can let my pups run in a yard, and have multiple rooms to decorate, and most importantly STAY PUT for many years instead of constantly thinking about what’s next, and where.  But I’m also scared of the quiet, the rooms that suggest I need to procreate multiple times STAT and the road rage that will flare up probably daily.

It’s a huge decision, and I’m terrible with those. I guess when the time comes to plunk down the ol’ 20% down, I’ll know in my heart whatever decision I make will be the right one.


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