Straight from the hearth

Lately I have been casually looking for a chateau, a new place with a good perch to view the stars. And it strikes me how similar house-hunting is to dating. You keep your eyes open, show a little interest and the interaction begins.

In each case, let's face it, looks are usually the first thing that catches the attention. And soon after, traits like personality (warm and inviting), interests (recreation and shopping nearby), job and social status (location, location, location, preferably in a good neighbourhood), and salary (a solid investment) become the focus.

And as with the buzz of excitement over a new flame, often hopes are dashed with the first real get-to-know-you session. (Hmmm, this is nothing like the photo ... the roof is missing some shingles, the street is really noisy and the backyard is kind of funny-shaped.) In these little dramas the real estate agent plays the role of matchmaker, like the best friend of the prospective paramour who trumpets all the virtues and plays down any shortcomings. (Well, yes, the master bathroom may be a little small, but don't you love the walk-in closets?) Maybe we're intrigued enough to arrange a second viewing or, if truly curious, a third one. After a while, the inevitable question arises: is this where I belong? Or should I keep looking?

To stretch the analogy a little, renting is sort of like living together, while buying a place is akin to getting hitched. And we all know about the seven-year itch. Like that attractive new co-worker who appears out of nowhere, sometimes an enticing development with granite countertops and a spacious deck springs up just down the street.

If, like me, you're thinking of moving on to a new abode, you must decide whether the grass is truly greener in the verdant garden of that beckoning property. Or is it worth the trouble and expense of starting over?

My place is kind of small, has too many stairs and no backyard. But I now realize I would miss my house. I enjoy seeing the big maple tree blossom, like the way the sun hits my bay window mid-morning, and have become fond of the quirky, lighthouse-like layout. Maybe, as with any relationship of nine years, mine just needs some renewed love and attention.