I am an HGTV addict. I confess, though, that I what I enjoy most about it is how enraged it makes me. I get so exasperated by what my mother calls “amenity creep”—the prevailing sense that no decent person could possibly survive these days without granite countertops, an “en suite” master bath with his-and-hers sinks, and a dedicated laundry room. (Seriously, how much space does one need to ball socks?) My own house is 200 years old and full of quirks and limitations that I live with because it has tons of charm and character. I might not have an “open concept” floor plan, but I have six fireplaces and a cobblestone driveway.