Scratch That

Earlier this year, Preston and I started thinking about buying a house. By which I mean: earlier this year, Preston and I started looking at real estate on the internet. Because we are SUCH adults. Also because initially, it was kind of just for fun - we weren't actually going to move. We've been in this apartment for almost three years, and still love it. It's enormous for what we pay, incredibly convenient for both of us (i.e. Preston walks downstairs to go to school, and I walk across the street), and we really only finished fixing it up a month ago, when we FINALLY hung the last few pictures in our bedroom. So anyways, no. We were not in the market to buy a house.

Thanks to the world of online real estate, however, even though we weren't that serious, we could still examine slideshows and specs of hundreds of houses in our area. We probably looked carefully at about twenty, most of which were a) out of our price range, b) completely fugly, or c) both. However, we did find one that we really loved - it was reasonably priced in an area that we liked, and we could both picture ourselves there. As much as we loved it, however, we both decided that since we weren't really in the market, we probably shouldn't go to look at it. So, not wanting to deal with disappointment, we decided to put house-hunting on hold.

Fast forward a week later, when we noticed that the price had dropped significantly (we are total suckers for a good deal). All of a sudden, it was the PERFECT time to go house-hunting. We giddily made an appointment for that weekend, and throughout the week, started talking about what we would do with a new house - how we would arrange it, how we would budget for mortgage payments, what paint colors would go where, etc. etc. We talked about how exciting it would be to have a yard for the dogs, a bathroom next to our bedroom, an actual bedroom for a baby, and - LO! - a dishwasher. Basically: we were really excited. We were really excited right up until the moment that Sunday when we walked up the front porch of Our Dream House to meet the agent.

And then we walked into the house, and all of our paint-by-number dreams came tumbling - nay - CRASHING down. VIOLENTLY. Turns out that sometimes, y'all, the internet lies. WHO KNEW?

We walked inside and all of a sudden everything went from technicolor to sepia - I saw the whole house in shades of brown and gray and GROSS. It was immediately clear that the owners (of the last twenty years) hadn't taken care of this house in any way - substantive or subtle. First of all, the whole house reeked of cigarette smoke, which didn't help its case. Besides the stench, paint was peeling, rooms were dark and musty, and weeds were popping up all over the yard (front and back). That said, I can paint, I can dust and air-out, and I can weed. Preston and I knew that we weren't afraid of doing some work to a new house. It might have been ok that the advertised sun-room turned out to be an unheated, moldy porch instead of the sun-flooded playroom I had envisioned; that the spacious back porch turned out to be a three foot wide stretch of warped wood; and that the warm, inviting kitchen had approximately two square feet of counter space. Except that really, I'm not at a point in my life when I want a fixer-upper, and neither is Preston. We know that a new house will, by necessity, require a lot of work, but y'all, when I walked around this house, I swear I saw the next ten years flashing before my eyes. I saw myself spending weekends stripping floors and plugging holes and painting walls and repairing cabinets and paying bills and OH MY GOD THEN MY HEAD EXPLODED.

So it should come as no surprise that we found out that the house would need a new roof ($15,000-$18,000) and new gutters ($1,000-$2,000) I almost laughed out loud, even though I really wanted to cry. This was just icing on the cake of awfulness that was this house. BUT WAIT! It gets better! When we walked into the basement, we learned that, in addition to a significant leak, the whole basement was covered in asbestos! WIN!

At that point, standing uncomfortably in the basement with the agent, we were advised that the owner really needed to sell - that she was getting desperate. Preston and I just stood there nodding our heads. AWKWARDDDD. We walked upstairs, and the agent shook our hands before we walked out to the car. I think she knew as well as we did that we would never see each other again.

***

Since that fateful day, Preston and I have talked a lot about what steps we want to take next in our marriage. And it turns out that buying a house is not one of them. Instead of giving the dogs a yard, this summer we've decided to start taking them to the dog park, where they can run as much as they want. If we have a baby in this apartment, we'll rearrange and make it work (à la Tim Gunn, of course). But moving? Packing up our lives, leaving an apartment we love, taking a HUGE financial leap, and starting all over? It's just not in the cards for us right now. One day it will be, but right now, it's not. And that is just fine with me.