Too Far North

Attracted by a crown molded kitchen and terrazzo tile back splash, a mini version of my brother’s thoroughly modern mansions, my husband and I drove to the northern tip of North Hollywood to see a house in our price range. I took the fact that it was at the cross street of my friendly co-worker’s first name and his last name as a portent for success. I couldn’t help thinking on the way that we were about to find a gem, hidden from “over Oxnard” denigrators.

It’s been a six-month hiatus from house hunting since the last round nearly broke us up. Our plan, up until now, has been to wait until May. Then, with the typical 90-day escrow for the VA, we’d be just in time for our apartment lease to run out. But, we couldn’t wait. Our neighbors on one side are punk rockers thumping our adjoining walls at all hours. The shrill Chihuahua with separation anxiety on the other side provides extreme vocals and the heating unit above us all punctuates the baseline with an oompapa, oompapa… normally at three and five AM.

At first the street is confusing, house numbers jumping from four to five numbers immediately but we soon worked it out and thanks to handy, dandy Listingbook, I knew what I was looking for. Once we worked out the through street there it was. It was like a glistening orange clitoris atop a mangy pubic mat. The railing on the front porch was exactly as pictured. Perennial Echinacea plants, fresh as the daisy-like flowers they are, shown in the golden-hour light. It was as if the place had been set down out of a hurricane not a leaf out of place in a neighborhood that bore no resemblance to the one it originated in.

“Levels of sophistication vary” a leasing agent once told me when I was complaining about an obnoxious teen at the pool. Such was the case in north, North Hollywood last night. It wasn’t clear at first as there were fathers outside with their kids and nice cars in the driveways. But in the long view if you don’t edge your yard or you fill it with cement and park your four-wheeler on it your likely not to pay attention to your stereo volume.

And so my modern kitchen turned to sand and flowed out between my closely set fingers. Maybe it was my punishment for a false start? Nah, the gods or real estate aren’t that cruel. We didn’t freak out completely but we both had an emotional re-visitation to our six-months-ago selves. The key lesson this night was – tread lightly on each other. You don’t know how the other person might be hoping and praying that this is THE one.