This beautiful Federal Revival in Kalorama looks like a stately English country house, like the sort of place where you go with your girlfriend to meet her parents, and they forbid you from being together because your father was a blacksmith or something. (Story of my life, except substitute “because your father is a blacksmith” with “because they caught you stealing Xanax from the bathroom medicine cabinet.)
Yeah but seriously, this house is exceptional even by Kalorama standards, which is saying something. The literature says it “exudes sophistication,” which is luckily just a metaphor, since a house literally exuding anything could be a problem with the neighbors. No one wants a mucus of sophistication trickling wetly down your driveway and accumulating in the gutter. Inside, there’s a huge, bright living room that features a wood-burning fireplace and opens onto the back garden. There’s also a grand scale dining room that could accommodate dozens of guests for dinner, which, let’s be honest, you should avoid at all costs because large dinner parties are more stressful than being chased through the forest by a bear. In the front of the house is a beautiful wood-paneled library; while I love the idea of a library, since its existence promotes and encourages the presence of books, it’s still kind of weird to think of keeping all your books in a separate room. I do most of my reading in bed, and if I had to go downstairs to the library every time I lost interest in a novel in mid-sentence, I’d probably just end up moving my bed into the library. Which sounds fine to me, but also sounds like the kind of thing that makes the audience gasp when your spouse brings it up on Divorce Court.
The house also sports an incredible observatory, complete with skylights. I didn’t think you could call something an observatory unless it had a huge domed telescope, but I do agree that this room is far too nice to be called a “sunroom,” so I guess “observatory” won out. If you want it to fit the dictionary definition, you’ll have to supply your own telescope, which might gather dust and go completely unused, or might open up entire new vistas of excitement, depending on how attractive your neighbors are and how often they walk in front of their windows without clothes on. The chef’s kitchen has enough (black marble) counter space to set up a regulation-size Slip-n-Slide, and all the top-of-the-line appliances that you probably don’t need, but still want just to impress your in-laws. Oh, and there’s an elevator. Having an elevator in your house is probably like having a McDonald’s soft serve machine in your kitchen; it seems weird at first, but as soon as you get used to it, you’ll be obese in no time at all. Upstairs, the master suite is huge, and has a truly impressive number of windows, so you’ll need plenty of duct tape and black plastic trash bags to block out the sunlight anytime you plan on sleeping in past 10AM. There’s also a sitting room area, complete with fireplace, for when you and your significant other want to adjourn for an open, adult conversation about how you really need to stop shouting “boom shaka laka!” at the conclusion of lovemaking.
On the roof is a fantastic deck that offers you a 360-degree view of the city; with so many directions to choose from, the cops will never figure out that it’s you who’s slingshotting water balloons out into the neighborhood. Oh, and there’s a four car garage, too. (Who are these people who have four cars? That’s not a rhetorical question, I actually want their names and addresses so I can go steal one of their cars. They probably won’t even notice it’s missing.) Finally, there’s the two-tiered rear garden, which is almost certainly the finest backyard I’ve seen in the District. Normally, when I have a backyard, I like to have impromptu bonfires and soccer games and cookouts, but this yard is so nice that I’d be terrified of wrecking it. I’d probably make people take their shoes off before walking around back here.