So There Was This House

sotherewasthishouse3So…there was this house that was almost perfect.  You may have been wondering what the month-long halt on house shopping was, and this is it.  After seeing this modest brick house in a desirable neighborhood, Ethan and I went to the bank to see what we could do.  Rather, what the bank could do for us!  Coming out of there thirty minutes later, I felt good, but the catch was, we had to wait at least a month for my full-time status as a manager to help me look legit.  But back to the house.

When this brick cutie came onto the market, I was intrigued and couldn’t wait for inside photos.  A one-owner home, it was completely untouched inside.  Wood paneling, beams on the vaulted ceiling, a surprisingly great kitchen minus the ugly cabinet hardware.  The outdoor trim was right on target, the shutters (though fake) were cute, and the front door was certainly traditional without that storm door covering it up.  Plus it was right in our price range.

The issues of the house didn’t hit me until I realized I had thirty days to mull it over without being able to act on anything.  The three bedrooms were small, with the smallest on the opposite side of the house as the others.  While the living room was roomy, no second living area existed for a TV to live or space for Ethan’s gaming equipment.  The threats of asbestos and lead paint and no insulation were looming.  And lastly, and maybe most importantly, there was no access to the backyard from the back of the house (only the side, near the garage).

Regardless of the problem areas that no manner of decorating could change, this house continued to float around in my head.  Until that is, this past weekend, when on a morning drive after getting coffees downtown, my family and I discovered a sold sign in the front yard.  What!?  Who else could appreciate this house but me?  Even though it didn’t align with my vision of a perfect forever homestead, I was still a little upset.  Shocked.  Puzzled.

I told myself if it sold in the timeframe that the bank was making us wait, then the house clearly wasn’t for us.  And even though that thought comforts me some, I am back to square one with wondering about our future home.  What will it look like?  Where will it be?  Will it present itself the thirty-two days since going to the bank?  Or will it wait for us to find it two years from now?

Oh the possibilities.

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