09/18/2026
It's almost never about square footage.
It's the stairs your knees have started negotiating with. The bedroom that's been "the gym" for three years because nobody sleeps in it anymore. The commute that made sense for a job you no longer have. The yard you used to love on Saturday mornings that somehow became a chore you pay for twice, once in money and once in your weekend.
Houses don't stop working all at once. They stop working in small ways, quietly, while life changes around them. The kids leave. The job goes remote. The hobby needs a garage. The parents need a main-floor bedroom when they visit. And because it happens slowly, most people live in the mismatch for years before they say it out loud.
Here's the question I ask when someone's wrestling with it: if you were house shopping today, knowing your actual life right now, would you buy the house you're in?
If the answer is an easy yes, wonderful. You're home. Ignore the market noise and stay put.
If you hesitated, that's worth paying attention to. Not because you need to move this month, but because naming the mismatch is how you stop organizing your life around a house that's organizing itself around a life you used to have.
No pitch here. Just the question. Sit with it this weekend, and if you land on "actually, no," my DMs are open whenever you want to talk about what fitting would even look like.
