Holy. Choosing a house is hard.
Our quest for the perfect home has now spanned four weeks, bazillions of google street view searches, and at least 25 in-person showings across about a dozen towns. Tobias has been earning his keep.
With guidance from our trusty real estate agent, we have bravely picked through yards strewn with debris, held our breath through homes that reek of cat pee, ducked into dark crawlspaces, and faced angry barking dogs.
Lately I’ve been spending more time with my new friend realtor.ca than with any of my human friends. Or JF, for that matter.
Remember our tale of two houses? Well, multiply that by three. We have:
– The pretty house in Elmvale that’s too expensive (my Elmvale house from post 2)
– The four floor, six bedroom mansion in Midland that’s too big
– The lovely home in Coldwater that’s too far
– The run-down house in Elmvale that has potential (JF’s Elmvale house from post 2)
– The farmhouse in Hillsdale that doesn’t have a working kitchen or insulation
– The expensive Midland house with good resale value, but only two bedrooms
None of these houses are perfect. Not a single one. And we have come within inches of making offers on them all.
This whole thing is rather complicated because much as JF and I have a similar vision for our future lifestyle, we can’t seem to agree on two important things: location and house style. I favour Midland and red brick victorians. He wants Horseshoe Valley Road and a “well maintained old person’s house” (his words). We may as well want different continents.
Woe is me.
What I’m trying to focus on tonight is this: whatever house we choose, we will make it a great home. We will love it, live in it, beautify it, host dinner parties in it, and be happy. Because that’s just our M.O.
But golly, do I ever wish we would get to the finish line, already.