Sundays With Strangers



This Mount Pleasant Arts & Crafts gem is the group house all your friends lived in before they started going bald and hastily got married and moved out, the one you would always visit and think, “this would be an excellent house if half as many people lived here, and they actually liked each other, and they did dishes more than every six months, and they actually bought toilet paper instead of using napkins from Subway.”  There was a group house very similar to this house, only a few blocks from this house, that I used to covet, to the point that when my pals who lived there threw parties, I would scream extra loud from the roof and urinate on the neighbors’ cars, so they would get evicted, and I could take over the lease.  No one ever complained to the landlord though;  I guess Mount Pleasant has a prodigiously high tolerance for shenanigans.  Which is good to know, if that’s your thing.

It would be sort of a shame, I admit, to waste a huge house like this on a blogger and his cats, and his procession of girlfriends.  This is a house for someone who wants to have a family.  Not, like, a kid or two, but one of those families you see in black-and-white photos from the Dust Bowl era, where there’s eighteen kids and a twenty-year difference between the oldest and the youngest.  (Those were the good old days, when America was built on procreating your own cheap labor.)  The living room is huge, and sports a decorative fireplace and all original woodwork.  From there, you go to the massive formal dining room, which could legitimately seat at least twenty, twice that if you make everyone eat standing up.  (The louvered ceiling is a nice touch too.)  Next is the recently-renovated kitchen, which features the marble countertops and stainless steel appliances that are apparently required, under penalty of execution without trial, to be in every single kitchen now.  (When I buy a house, I’m going to have stainless steel countertops and marble appliances, just because.)   There’s also a small dining area next to a wall of glass sliding doors, so you can sit there in the morning, squinting angrily in the white-hot morning sunlight as you try to figure out where you went wrong in life.  (Law school, mostly.)  Through those sliding doors is a large, private partially-covered wooden deck, the perfect place to keep a grill, so in the summer you can incinerate some perfectly good food that your guests will then pretend is edible.

Upstairs, the master bedroom features massive windows, and the walk-in closet you always dreamed of, all those years you spent shoving tupperware tubs full of shoes and sweaters under your twin bed.  There’s also a solarium, for late-afternoon drowsing or for when you misguidedly take up a musical instrument during your midlife crisis instead of just doing the sensible thing, i.e. having an affair.  Further up, the attic is fully finished;  it’s set up now as a sort of office or study, with built-ins and bench seating, but it would also be a perfect bedroom for an angsty teenager, if only because it’s as far as you can get away from everyone else in the house while still being in the house.  There’s also a cleverly-concealed storage area up there where you could totally hide from home invaders, zombies, in-laws who didn’t call ahead, etc.  The lower level is a separate basement apartment, and one of the nicer basement apartments I’ve seen.  These “English basements” are usually mildewy bachelor dungeons fogged with equal parts radon gas and furnace exhaust, but this place is legit.  Also, one of the bonuses of living in an actual house is that you get tons of storage space;  there’s a basement laundry room-slash-workshop with enough storage space for literally decades of mindless treadmill-like consumerism.  And that’s not even including the freestanding garage out back.  (How long before they rebrand garages as “junior carriage houses” and start renting them out to millennials?  Three years?  Five years?  I’ll take the under on that bet.)

1636 Hobart Street NW
4 Bedrooms, 2 Baths


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