Our street has gotten four new homes built in the past year. One of them was a Parade of Homes house, which was aptly named. There are a lot of people looking for homes. Sure, many were looking AT homes, but we've heard through the neighborhood grapevine that several offers were proferred -- and refused! The builder believes he can get his price.

Our whole neighborhood is teardown central these days. It's older, with smaller homes, so it's prime for such turnover. Twenty years ago, we were "those people," buying and tearing down a factory-built home, back when the term had less high-tech connotations. We were ahead of the curve, building the home we wanted on a lot we loved.

The nest is semi-empty now, though. Our friends are downsizing, trying to gauge how little house they need vs. how much money must be saved.

So it's little wonder that the conversation emerges: Should we sell? We've gotten our prime use from the home. I put in many, many square feet of garden. The porch is sagging a bit. Street repairs on are the civic calendar. The driveway definitely needs a major redo -- unless we decide to be ahead of the curve on the return to gravel drives. (You read it here first.)

It's not so big a house that we're knocking around, but there's extra space. We talked seriously -- more seriously than I thought we would, frankly. But the decision to stay wasn't difficult. We love our neighbors, and believe they also are here for years. The neighborhood, while changing, still is terrific. The punch line, of course, is that we just can't bear to think of packing everything up and schlepping it somewhere else -- only to have to unpack it again.

The best thing is that while I love my house, I learned that I could leave it. But if I don't have to, I don't want to. I suspect we will have the conversation again, maybe in 10 years. But for now, I'm happy to stay.