Since childhood, you’ve been sketching A-frames on napkins, notebooks, and the foggy windows of long car rides. To you, A-frames weren’t just houses—they were emblems of a life less ordinary. A life where cool friends gather, slanted ceilings echo with laughter, and towering windows frame the tree canopy as living, breathing art.

But there was a problem: A-frames didn’t exist in suburbia. Not the mid-century modern masterpieces you had obsessed over on Instagram. Suburbia was destitute with endless rows of cookie-cutter boxes, soul-crushing vinyl siding, and HOAs that banned hammocks.

Then, one Tuesday morning, groggy from another 8 a.m. meeting that could’ve been an email, your phone dings—a new listing notice. You press the screen. A mid-century modern A-frame in all its angular glory, right there on Zillow. Destiny. You almost choke on the sip of coffee in your mouth. You text your agent: “911 must go see this ASAP!!!!” You call your boss to tell her you’re feeling under the weather and can’t work today. Then drive straight to the house.

Your showing appointment isn’t until later today, but you can’t wait to see it. It doesn’t disappoint. In fact, it’s probably even better in person. Sitting on a quiet cul-de-sac on one of the sexiest streets in Northcrest. The yard explodes with color in the spring—azaleas, forsythia, cherry trees, daffodils, lilies, and more.

From the street, you crane your neck, hoping for a glimpse of the double lot. The listing agent claims “This isn’t just a backyard—it’s limitless possibility with room for an ADU or a pool.” It’s a canvas waiting for your vision. Build. Expand. Dream. You feel the foam from your mouth, drip down your chin.

Then your heart sinks as two cars slowly pull around you into the driveway. It’s like you’re watching a real-life nightmare unfold. Two mustached hipsters get out of their 2024 Subaru Outback. It has the fancy touring package that’s never seen a piece of gravel in its entire life.
They’re wearing matching flannel, and a fake vintage AC/DC t-shirt. Then it hits you, this isn’t a house; it’s a battlefield and it’s time you defend what’s rightfully yours. You jump out of your car and full-on sprint past them to the front of the house. The couple looks confused at first, maybe they think you’re the owner running back to grab something you forgot. As you reach the front door, you turn around, then lock eye as you lean down and lick the doorknob — nice and slow. “Sorry, boys,” you say, “this one’s already claimed.”

And so it comes to pass—this is the story you’ll tell at every housewarming party, forever cementing your legend. Your friends will shake their heads in disbelief, and your neighbors will smile politely, wondering if you’re a little unhinged. But none of it matters, because you’re living the dream, tucked away in your own glorious, mid-century A-frame masterpiece. The end.