We stood side by side at the dining room window, my clients and I. This St. Paul house was an option, but there were a couple mysteries to solve. The listing sheet said there was a two car garage, but the only possible garage is to the side of the house in the direction we are facing. It appears to belong to this house since the electrical wire to that garage attaches to the house we're standing in. The mystery is that there appears to be only one driveway for two garages that are side by side. The garages are two different colors. White matches the house we're in and brown matches the house we're looking at. The driveway must be shared by the two garages.
We stand quietly perusing the view. Sharing a driveway isn't always a bad option. Occasionally it might work out. The question depends on the neighbor and the level of cooperation between the two houses.
My clients and I stare at the house. What does that house tell us about the neighbors?
- The driveway is not shoveled. Since the house we are in is vacant, the shoveling would be impossible for the absent owner. Obviously, the neighbor doesn't place shoveling high on his/her priority list.
- The house next door needs exterior maintenance. The wood needs a finish coat. Gutters are sagging. The garage door is in disrepair. The neighbors may not have the funds to maintain the driveway surface.
- The yard is full of mystery hills of snow. My clients are from the south where snow doesn't cover the sins of the neighbor's back yard, but I'm a Minnesotan and I know what frightening things may hide under those piles. Were leaves left in heaps in the yard? Are there sacks of garbage under the snow? What mysteries would be revealed in the spring thaw?
- Visible signs of debris add to the fear of garbage hidden. On the bench lies an abandoned rake and a overturned pot. A bicycle without a chain holds up the wood privacy fence. A lost glove is frozen to the snow. The deck sports patio furniture with its umbrella still open. Parked at the front curb is a primed, not painted, muscle car with collector's plates.
We stand there, the three of us, each taking in the view. What does that yard tell us about the neighbors? Is it an abandoned mom with lots of kids who's overwhelmed with all the work? Is it the Beverly Hillbillies, only messy? As our thoughts are given voice, my clients decide the risk is too great. That view . . . well, that view is what they'd see every night from their dining room table. It didn't seem hopeful that their standards of driveway upkeep would be similar to the ones next door. Nope, this St. Paul house wasn't going to be the one.
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