Sundays With Strangers


jeffersonIt worries me that I’m starting to have serious thoughts about things like “value.”  I feel like this means I’m starting to get old.  Once you start caring about value, it’s not long before you’re eating dinner at 4PM (“early bird special”) and wearing oversized t-shirts you got at the company picnic.  (“But it was free!”) It makes me want to go out and spend eight dollars on a cup of coffee, just to prove I’m still young.  If you were to press me on the subject though, I would reluctantly tell you, after checking over both shoulders to make sure there aren’t any attractive college students within earshot to roll their eyes at me, that Petworth is where all the value is.  Value being a relative term, you could even say that in terms of square footage per dollar, Petworth is like the superdense microscopic mass that preceded the Big Bang.  There’s literally nothing else.

I mean, this is a legit house, for not much more than you’d pay for a parking space in Georgetown.  It’s so cheap, I thought the price was a typo at first;  I was going to just take it on the spot, like how when my mom would find mispriced groceries when I was growing up, and we’d end up eating ravioli every night for two weeks just because she couldn’t resist the deal.  There’s an actual front yard and a great front porch;  you enter into an open floor plan living room, which is a long, bright loft-like space with hardwood floors.  Walls are basically passé now.  It makes for better light and circulation, though the privacy thing can be a bit prickly.  I guess if you need to surreptitiously text your side piece, you can just put up a room divider. That wouldn’t be obvious at all.

At the rear of the main level is the chef’s kitchen, furnished with the stainless steel appliances and marble countertops more commonly found in houses you can’t afford.  A lot of places have sort of a token kitchen, almost like the people who built the house knew that you only eat takeout, but this is a legitimate, functional kitchen with tons of storage and counterspace, so if you don’t actually use it, you’ll always be aware of it, sitting here in the corner, silently judging you.  Upstairs, the bedrooms are large and flooded with natural light;  if you want to sleep in, you’ll definitely need a staple gun and some black plastic trash bags.  Downstairs, is probably the nicest basement I’ve ever seen.  They dug it out so there are nine-foot ceilings down there.  It’s so nice, it’s a basement in name only now.  If my parents’ basement had nine-foot ceilings, I’d still be living there, laying in bed at night and playing Nirvana tapes to drown out the sound of them going to the bathroom every thirty minutes, which is what I do when I visit.  It could be used for a home theater, a separate (possibly rentable) apartment, or just a really nice au pair suite (French for “nanny hole”).

Out back is a massive wooden deck;  you could fit an entire wicker living room set on this deck, though I don’t know why you’d want to do that.  Maybe if you lost a bet or something.  There’s ample parking too, and this house is an end unit, so worst case scenario, there will only be one neighbor carrying out a feverish letter-writing campaign to get you legally expelled from the neighborhood.

131 Jefferson Street NW
4 Bedrooms, 3.5 Baths


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