If you’re reading this, you’ve probably at least thought about downsizing. Most boomers do at some point, and a lot of us follow through on it.
The Conference Board of Canada has predicted more than 80 per cent of new housing demand will come from those over 65 in the next 20 years.
The number geeks also say 60 per cent of new households will be formed by those 75 and up. That’s a lot of tears and moving boxes.
My wife and I missed the Freedom 55 moment two years ago, but after a dizzying flurry of real estate transactions, basement purging and a jump off some emotional and financial cliffs, we’re living the next best thing: the downsizer dream. The following advice is worth what you’ve paid.
Don’t think it through
Carefully researching neighbourhoods, analyzing the market, selling before you buy? — you’ll never do it.
The thought of dealing with all your stuff is enough to make you open another bottle of wine and watch Hoarders instead. See, those people are much worse than you. Besides, you love your house.
Our household was split along pretty familiar gender lines for ages. I regularly issued orders that we were moving downtown to end my three-hour daily commute and painful war with the flora and fauna in our yard. My wife, meanwhile, continued to transform said yard into a garden paradise and nurture our social connections in a beautiful beach neighbourhood.
It came to a crashing halt after 18 years when my wife did the unthinkable: she called my bluff and fell in love with a 686-square-foot apartment on Stanley Park. The loss of a beloved pet started it all (a familiar story, it turns out), but before I mumble, “uh, maybe we should think about this,” the apartment was purchased and the house had to go.
Fasten your seat belts; it’s time to sell the house.
Don’t take it personally
After almost 20 years at the same address in a community we loved and a house that we had gutted once and renovated almost constantly, we were thrust into a harsh new world of real estate bargaining — and a closing date on the apartment loomed.
We soon learned it’s a jungle out there, and the market was softening.
The process was brutal, as personal items and artwork were appraised and became part of the purchase-offer battleground.
In the end, our house sold in eight days, and we had to be out in three weeks.
You must get rid of stuff
Chances are, one spouse will do more of the work on that front, and the other spouse will be tempted to criticize.
There will be different interpretations of what is “good stuff” and what is not.
“Good stuff,” when it came to classified ads and garage sales, turned out in our case to be the kitsch and mid-century modern. Beautiful heirloom furniture from mom and dad? No thanks, but I’ll take that cool Coke sign or funky night light. If it was big, and made robustly out of wood to last the ages, nobody wanted it. That included a heritage baby grand piano. But if it was in any way featured on TV in the ’60s or ’70s, it was gone.
We dreaded dealing with the 40 years worth of photo albums, but my wife dealt a master stroke. Photos were ripped from the pages and compiled according to the faces in the snapshot. Each family member and old friend then received a package of nostalgia to do with what he or she saw fit.
After the giveaways to family members and friends, the sales to those who responded to ads and the parade of antique dealers who toured the house, it was time to face the music.
If there’s anything worse than waking up at 6 a.m. with a massive hangover, it’s waking up at that ungodly hour to put on a garage sale. In the rain. You get to see who your real friends are.
After the soggy but successful garage sale, and a subsequent visit by the thrift-store truck, the rest went into landfill.
Moving daze
The apartment hadn’t been updated in 40 years and needed work. Hello hotel room for 10 weeks. And hello, storage locker, for our household possessions.
Going multi-family after 30 years of house living comes with a new set of rules governing elevator use, noise levels and parking/ bike storage space. Even though there’s less of almost everything, it seems to take longer to get anything done. And you can forget about taking shortcuts — moving is hard, muscle-wrenching work.
Upside on downsizing
Can’t say we’ve found a downside. We miss friends from the old ’hood, but great neighbours and merchants are certainly found in our new stomping grounds.
The beloved garden has been traded for a small balcony space, the baby grand piano for an upright. Friends and relatives from afar still visit us, they just overnight in funky nearby hotels instead of the spare bedroom we no longer have.
The biggest plus is probably an end to reliance on the car. Walking to work, shopping, concerts, sports events and pretty much anything else keeps us healthier and happier — not to mention making everything much more affordable. As rush hour traffic grinds to a halt, it’s hard not to feel smug about being part of the solution after years of causing the problem.
Radical downsizing may not be for everyone, but we’ve found it completely liberating. A fresh start is fun — once you take the first step out the door.