Downsizing path leads to nowhere
Today I would like to address the most widespread delusion afflicting my peer group: The Downsizing Delusion.
(By my peer group, I mean people who are long past their midlife crises, yet still a long way from Dentu-creme.)
Anyway, here is a typical conversation between two of these empty-nester types:
Empty nester No. 1: We just don’t really need this much house anymore.
Empty nester No. 2: I know what you mean. We’re thinking of looking at something smaller, too.
No. 1: Yeah, a little townhouse or downtown condo would be perfect. I’m sick of taking care of the yard.
No. 2: We were thinking of just trading down to a smaller house. You know, like a little bungalow. Maybe a cabin.
No. 1: Exactly. Maybe just a nice apartment.
No. 2: Right. Without the kids around, who needs all this room? Actually, we were thinking of getting rid of the house entirely and getting an RV.
No. 1: Yes. A nice trailer.
No. 2: A large tent would even be enough.
No. 1: Actually, we’re thinking of moving into a small Port-a-Potty.
In a moment, I will tell you how these conversations, if allowed to play out, really end. In the meantime, though, let me tell you that when most people embark on this downsizing path, the result usually goes one of two ways.
The first: The downsizing couple shops and shops and shops for cute little houses and simple, affordable condos and then they go ahead and slap a down payment on a 6,000-square-foot castle in the Stockbroker Tudor architectural style, complete with gargoyles, turrets and fake cannons on the roofline.
The cannons, by the way, jut out over the 16th tee.
This outcome is no surprise. Just about anybody who has ever shopped for a house knows that a strange transformation takes place after you look at the first few houses in your price/size range. It slowly dawns on you that “affordable” houses are, in fact, sad little hovels. So you quickly revise your aspirations upward, to a more spacious hovel, and then a few days later, to an actual house that you can tolerate, despite the fact that it is more money than you’ve ever spent in your lifetime, including every purchase you’ve ever made added together.
This process is even more pronounced among my Post-Midlife-Crisis brethren, because they soon discover that these cute little “downsized” places bear far too much resemblance to their first “starter homes” and/or “dollhouse charmers” in which the floors slanted southward, the roof slanted northward and the view was of the neighborhood crack dealers.
Your average empty nesters are not exactly in a life-phase where they are willing to – how can I put this? – live the austere life without whining. So they soon begin to think, “Oh, what the hell. Let’s just spend all our equity. Who better to spend it than us?”
However, here’s the second typical result for prospective downsizers: They don’t downsize, nor do they upsize, nor do they commit any kind of “sizing” whatsoever. They simply stay put.
Sure, they go all over town, checking out houses, checking out neighborhoods, checking out downtown condo projects, checking out the viability of living in a hobo camp under a viaduct. But they just keep going back to the following conversation, which constitutes the true ending to many downsizing conversations:
No. 1: I don’t know, I kind of like my old house.
No. 2: Me, too. And I love my neighborhood.
No. 1: Where am I going to find better neighbors?
No. 2: Nowhere, that’s where.
No. 1: And I love my garden. It suits me.
No. 1: On a nice day, what better to do than work in your garden?
No. 2: Right. And what are you going to do all day in some little condo? Sit there and stare at each other?
No. 1: No way. I’d go berserk. Someone might get hurt.
No. 2: But do you really need that much house? That much yard?
No. 1: Well, there is one thing …
No. 2: What’s that?
No. 1: You need a place for the grandchildren to visit.
No. 2: Yes, someplace for them to play.
No. 1: Somewhere with a nice yard. And lots of memories.
No. 2: (Pause) They’ll have to carry me out of this place feet first.
No. 1: Me, too. Talk to you later. I have to go weed.