Over the past few years, I’ve found great joy in posting my Zillow finds on Twitter. Sometimes they’re ridiculous (usually ridiculous displays of wealth—I only want to punch up) and sometimes they’re terrifying, and sometimes they’re houses or rooms I genuinely adore.
I just found a REALLY wild place I need to share with you next week, one that deserves a Substack instead of tweets. But first I need to prep you. Because I’ve never explained why I’m spending time on Zillow to begin with, or how I do the searches that lead to such bizarre results. Here goes.
For context, I was finally (in the biggest “should have seen that coming” moment of my life) diagnosed with ADHD last year, at 43. I’ll write about it in more detail another time. But briefly, it’s very, very hard for me to stay on task when I don’t love what I’m doing. It’s rarely my writing that I need a break from. Part of ADHD is the ability to hyperfocus on things you actually enjoy, and I can write for so long without a break that I don’t notice when my legs fall asleep.
What I’m usually trying to avoid is my out-of-control inbox, and/or the million things I have to do first in order to answer the emails. The healthy break would be to get up and walk around. But that would lead to me doing other things and forgetting work, and I only wanted a two-minute break anyway. Going on social media is not the best idea (two hours later I’ve found myself neck-deep in a rabbit hole about what happens when Republicans drink bleach)…
Here's why Zillow is perfect: I run a search and find lovely houses. (That’s really what I’m looking for; the horrible things I post are mostly accidental finds.) Then I start to wish that I had bookshelves like that, or that I lived by the water, or that I had craftsman elements in my living room, or that I had a turret to write in. I make plans to run a free writing residency in the cute little backyard guesthouse. Then I wonder how I could ever get such things. Then I remember that the answer is money. Then I remember that although next to no writers can afford a turreted waterfront home with craftsman bookshelves, the best step I can take in that direction is to get my #^*(!%#ing email done so I can actually write for a change, so I can make a living. Then I hop back to work.
Unless, of course, I find something so good I have to share it with everyone. But that’s fun, too.
Here’s how to run a great Zillow search. Pick a geographic area, then set the search results to “Price: high to low.” Then go into “More” and make some solid choices. Waterfront houses in Miami built before 1950. The most expensive condo in Indiana.* The most expensive house in Texas built after 2010 that doesn’t have tons of land (because then you’re just staring at pictures of cattle).
We’ve had a few surreal adventures since I started posting. Some of my favorites:
This one got better and better as I dug into who built it. There’s a terrible story about a dead camel at the end. The day after I posted and it went viral, someone took the listing down. Then a few days later it was back up, with the price raised from $32 million to $60 million, despite the fact that it had been assessed for $2.69 million. I don’t know for sure that I was responsible, but OMG. (It’s now off the market. Sorry.)
*The most expensive condo in Indiana turns out to be owned by the guy who invented fart candles. It’s atrocious.
We had fun figuring out the ownership history of this one in Chicago.
I have an ongoing thread of cursed red carpeting. Trigger warning for nightmare material.
Ultimately, though, I’m looking for strange beauty. It’s not hard to find.
As a thank-you to paid subscribers, a couple more threads and new finds are below the jump, plus a preview of next week’s find.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to SubMakk to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.