Let me begin with a little analysis of what led me to begin living in my attic with my husband and a crotchety, fuzzy cat.
You see, most of my children didn't really like bringing their friends to our house, not that there was anything wrong with our house. We just weren't...fun. Other homes had cool parents, fun toys and neighborhoods with more kids to play with. We basically had a TV and anxieties.
So, when my last one was almost ready to flee the nest, my husband and I bought a new house--well, not really new. Actually, it was about forty years old, but it had some great features. Besides the basic hallway with the bedrooms and bathroom in between, it had a mother-in-law apartment by the kitchen and a really unique room upstairs. This room was long, like a bowling alley with angled walls, and had a bathroom and closet on one end. How cool was that?
Now that we had our new house and empty nest, we began to re-invent ourselves as a fun couple with friends. We began inviting people over for dinner and even hosted some small open house receptions for our children when they got married. Of course that was after the other sets of in-laws had the really big parties. But that was okay, we did things according to our scale. And you know what? People liked coming to our house.