Our old house in a suburb west of Boston was a "raised ranch," a split level of no particular distinction. It had big rooms and lots of space and a sunny front yard with woods bordering the back yard, which sloped down the hill. We moved in when it had been newly decorated and lived there twenty years, only putting a great huge deck off the kitchen.
When we prepared to sell, the realtor said, OMG, you can't have this old-fashioned 80's wallpaper! Nine months of sweat equity later, the walls were newly painted (mostly), the old rugs rolled up and hauled off to the dump. The bushes and shrubs were freshly pruned and the hole the woodpecker pecked in the home office wall (exterior) was patched.
Then comes some sad history of a young couple buying the house, fixing it up with new kitchen, baths, and a California feeling. Now this is New England and people like their center colonials and their Capes. Small windows with 24 panes, no problem, small dark rooms, hey it's cozy! Old timey decor, now you're talking. New Englanders were the original "Early Americans." So when the nice young couple split, the nicely fixed up "California" house
did not sell. And did not sell. And still did not sell. Finally, it sold to a California couple for barely more than we had sold it for.
The California couple believed in Feng Shui, and ALL the landscaping except for one (1) rhododendron was pulled up. The nice front yard red maple tree that shaded the house in summers was chopped down. The bare concrete foundation is still exposed. No replacement trees planted. It looks kind of stark.
We drive through the old neighborhood every so often and gasp at the number of tear downs that have occurred, and gape at the ugly-as-sin McMansions that have replaced the modest homes. Yesterday we took a drive-by again. Ye Gods! Our former house is canary yellow, a bright canary yellow. S.O. immediately dubbed it The Yellow Peril. Words cannot describe how ugly it is, with it's naked concrete foundation and it's hideous loud color. It almost shames one to have lived in such a monstrosity.
What were they thinking? The house across the street is for sale. Do you think the neighbors couldn't stand to look at the Yellow Peril one more day?
Do you think maybe the current owner looked at a teensy-tiny paint chip and didn't realize how LOUD an entire house would look?
Do you think Feng Shui ran amok and created major ugliness in our little neighborhood?
There's a lot of bad karma there, and I'm glad I live here, now.
What were they thinking?