Let me start by saying this before anyone gets defensive: this is not a blog about how you hit a certain phase of life and suddenly need a beige ranch and orthopedic shoes.
It is about the fact that life changes faster than people think. And houses, unfortunately, are very literal.
The house that felt perfect when you were 32 and mobile and working in an office and living on takeout might feel deeply annoying when you are 41 and working from home three days a week, trying to keep an older dog from eating shit on the stairs, helping a parent through surgery, or realizing you actually do care whether the kitchen can hold more than one human (we call these a one-butt kitchen!!).
This is also NOT about kids versus no kids, married versus single, “traditional” family versus anything else. Family shape can mean a partner, a roommate, your best friend, a parent, a teenager, a rescue dog or just you deciding that peace matters more than charm.
What I am always trying to get buyers to understand is this: the house needs to fit not just the version of you who is walking through it today, but the version of you who is still going to be living there after life does what life does. And life ALWAYS does something.
YOU ARE NOT JUST BUYING FOR NOW
One of the hardest things for buyers to do is imagine a future they are not in yet.
That is normal. Of course it is. If you do not have kids, it is hard to imagine what life with a baby or a teenager is actually like. If your parents are healthy, it is hard to imagine a moment when you are suddenly Googling shower chairs and trying to figure out whether your basement setup is actually humane. If your dog is two and made of springs, you are probably not thinking about what happens when that same dog is twelve and your bedroom is up a steep flight of stairs.
But this is exactly why I ask nosy questions. I am not trying to ruin your fun. I am trying to help you not buy a house that only works for one very specific chapter. Because if the house only works when everyone is healthy, mobile, child-free, pet-young, office-commuting, and deeply tolerant of inconvenience, that is not a flexible house. That is a house with a very narrow range of forgiveness. And we are looking for forgiveness.
THE THINGS PEOPLE UNDERESTIMATE
- Can you work from home without slowly losing your mind?
- Can your aging parent come stay for six weeks after a surgery without everyone wanting to kill each other?
- Can your dog get outside without a full obstacle course?
- Can you host people without the house feeling like a clown car?
- Can you live with the maintenance this house is going to ask of you?
That last one is huge. Because the tolerance you had at 32 is often not the tolerance you have at 42 when you have an actual job and a body that would like some rest. And this is where people get into trouble with old Portland charm.
Listen. I love an old house. I am deeply susceptible to leaded glass, built-ins, weird little arches, all of it. But I also know that charm can be a high-maintenance bit*h. Sometimes what feels romantic in one season of life starts to feel like an unpaid internship later.
That does not mean no one should buy old houses. It means be honest about whether you want a house to be your great love story or your side hustle.
THE HOUSE DOES NOT HAVE TO BE FOREVER, BUT IT SHOULD HAVE RANGE
I say versions of this to clients all the time: your first house does not have to be your forever house, but it should not back you into a corner either.
I want your home to work in three timelines: now, several years from now, and the day you need to sell it or turn it into a rental. That means I care a lot about flexibility.
Maybe today that extra room is an office. Great. Later it might be a nursery, a guest room, a space for your mom, a roommate. I do not need us to know exactly what it will become. I just need it to have options.
Maybe today you are fine with the busy street because you are gone all day anyway. Cool. But if remote work becomes your normal, or you have a baby who naps, or a dog who reacts to every sound, that same street might become the thing that makes you hate your own house.
A lot of what I do is help people understand the difference between “I can make this work” and “this actually supports my life.” Those are not the same thing.
WHAT CHANGES IS NOT ALWAYS WHAT YOU EXPECT
Sometimes the big life shift is obvious. A baby. A divorce. A layoff. A parent moving in. A health issue. A move to hybrid work. But honestly, sometimes it is more subtle than that.
Sometimes you just get older and less interested in unnecessary inconvenience. You get pickier about light. About noise. About storage. About not carrying groceries up a dumb set of stairs. About whether your kitchen makes you feel inspired or homicidal. About whether your weekends are for living or for managing a house. That is not being boring. That is being in relationship with your own life.
And the people who do best in homeownership are usually not the ones chasing the most impressive house. They are the ones being the most honest. Honest about energy. Honest about maintenance tolerance. Honest about whether they are buying for optics or actual function. Honest about whether the house makes their life easier or just photographs well.
If you’re in this exact headspace, go read my blog on thinking 10 years ahead, it gets into how to buy for the life you’re building, not just the one you’re living this second.
THE GOAL IS NOT TO PREDICT EVERYTHING
To be clear, I am not asking you to become a psychic. You do not need to know exactly who you will be in ten years. None of us do. God help us. But I do want you to use your imagination. Not fantasy imagination. Practical imagination.
- I want you to ask: if my work changes, does this still work?
- If my family shape changes, does this still work? If my body changes, does this still work?
- If I get tired, busier, luckier, sadder, more grounded, more domestic, less tolerant, does this still work?
That is a much better question than “Isn’t this kitchen cute?” Because yes, it is probably cute. Portland is full of cute kitchens. I am trying to get you a life that works.
THE BOTTOM LINE
The houses that fit in your right now do not always fit later because the person living inside them is not frozen in amber. You change. Your needs change. Your people change. Your pets change. Your capacity changes. Your standards change.
That is not failure. That is being alive.
So when I push you to think beyond the version of your life you are living this exact second, it is not because I am trying to make things heavy. It is because I want you to choose a home with enough flexibility, sanity, and range to hold the next version of you, too.
And if that means I occasionally crush your dreams about the very charming house with no closets, two hundred stairs, and a kitchen the size of a postage stamp? You are welcome.
If you want help finding a house that works for your real life now and your future life later, get in touch with Team Goche here.
