Condo

Two weeks ago when Claire-Adele and I got back from London, I was pissed at Jack. I don't remember exactly what I was pissed about, but I was pissed. I was tired from the trip and probably PMSing and then set off by something that legitimately made me mad. I was probably pissed that he works too much and is never around. In my anger and rage, I decided to Google "Belltown Condos," and up popped a really cool looking place on the Redfin website. If your wife is ever mad at you, the last thing you want to find on her search browser--worse than details of an affair--would be surreptitious searches for real estate. This condo had two bedrooms, an outdoor dining terrace, a view of the Sound and was two blocks from where I work.

"Do you want to tour this place?" a little box popped up and asked me.

Hmmmm.

"Yes," I clicked back. The next day at lunch, I checked it out.

I was in love. Or lust. Smitten. Whatever. I needed this place. So much so, that I called Jack to tell him about this amazing place even though the reason I looked at it in the first place was because I was mad at him.

"What?" he said. "Why are you looking at Belltown condos?" He was not amused. I didn't care.

"We have an appointment Saturday at nine to see it," I said.

When I got home from work, we sparred about it. I can't remember the exact details, but somewhere along the way, I said "You can either quit your job or you can buy me a condo."

"I am not quitting my job," he said. So a condo in Belltown it is.

"Why do you want a condo?" he asked.

"I want to go back to my urban roots," I said. "I could live like I did in London, like we did for years in Chicago." In London, Claire-Adele and I had stayed in a flat South Kensington five minutes from the Underground. In Chicago, Jack and I lived in Lincoln Park. My notions were not some romantic fantasy. I have lived this life before and I'd do it again.

Where I lived in my twenties. We were in the second floor apartment above the door.

"We could always rent this place," he said, referring to what I am now calling my Ravenna home. I knew he was considering it. He could be budged.

When we left the next morning, Jack was still fuming, or at least acting like he was. Perhaps he wasn't mad, just confused and confounded. Until he saw the place.

He agreed it was amazing. All I had to do was bait the hook and he bit.

Sunday, we walked along the Sound in Myrtle Edwards Park next to the Seattle Sculpture Garden. There were dozens of people out walking their dogs in the park, including our Congresswoman.

"I could see walking Fox here every morning," I said. Living close to the waterfront is one of the main reasons I want to live downtown. I saw Jack's shoulders uncoil from stress. He smiled for no reason. We currently live less than a block from Ravenna Park, which is awesome and amazing, but it can't compete with water and mountains.

Monday morning when I was at work, Jack texted me: "Maybe we could check these places out," with links to places that are 50% above what I had wanted to spend. Places on the top floor with spectacular views. I guess I baited that hooked with a synthetic opioid. Jack was more gung-ho about the idea than I was.

The kids were not nearly as thrilled.

"Why do you want a condo?" both kids asked me at dinner one night while Jack was working.

"I'm going to college," said Claire-Adele. "Please don't spend all of my tuition."

"When are you going to live there? I have to finish high school," said the Boy.

"We have extra money from paying off the mortgage and now I'm working," I said. "I want to put that money to good use."

I could see the light bulb pop above my daughter's head. "So you want to spend your money on something tangible that will create value in the long-term?" she said. Actually, I can't remember exactly what she said. What she said was better phrased and sounded like it came out of the mouth of an economist. Sometimes my kids surprise me.

"This is a stupid, impractical idea," the Boy said. Sometimes they don't surprise me.

The next morning, I was walking Fox and I ran into my neighbor, Stanley and his dog, Taylor, and I told him of my plan. I was actually feeling cold feet about the condo concept before I ran into Stanley. Did I really want to have two houses, one downtown? Wouldn't I miss my neighbors and my neighborhood? We were eating dinner in the back yard the other night on the back deck. Under the canopy of trees you can barely see the sky. Why would I leave this Eden?

I explained my idea to Stanley. I must not have been very convincing.

"Lauren," said Stanley, "It sounds like you've thought about it, but it still sounds impetuous. You are usually so analytical, so thoughtful. This isn't really like you."

Yeah, it's not.

"You should talk to Amy," he said. "Her mom sold a house on Hunts Point and moved downtown while Amy was in high school."

"What did she think about it?" I asked.

"You should talk to her," he said.

I don't want to talk to Amy. I love her dearly, but please, just tell me the punch line. Don't make me wait. Most especially, I don't want to hear from Amy that my kids might be right. This might be crazy.

An hour later, I was riding the bus to work and I was started to think. If I were in a downtown condo, I'd still be in bed because I could walk to work in five minutes. Or maybe I'd be walking Fox. Who is that woman walking her dog at 8:30? She must not have anywhere to be, people might think of me, but ha! I'd show them. I can walk my dog at 8:30 AND work. My crazy idea was back on the front burner. While I was on a mental roll, I texted my friend Sarah about the condo idea and asked her what she thought. In the past, she has not passed judgment on my spending habits.

"I think it is brilliant," she said.

In less than two hours, I have two opinions: impetuous and brilliant. The truth is probably somewhere in between.