Several years ago, we had a
screaming insane bouncing baby girl. Jay’s family (aka the towering behemoths) came to visit. We quickly realized we needed a bigger house. We started the house search in September. After visited house after house after house, I was getting discouraged. To be honest, I enjoyed the McMansions (ducking from the readers!), but the layouts were less than desirable. Either the dinning room was set funny, or the living room was from to back, which I don’t like. It just didn’t work!
Finally, we saw several houses in our current town. There were two houses on one street that were both for sale. The neighbors decided to move to a retirement community together. The first house was a split entry and the second was a full colonial with a basement. We walked through both. The second was about $65K more than the first. Soleil needed a bottle and I sat on the couch of the lower level of the first house. The paneled walls gave me the willies and the bar (yes BAR) was a little weird. But slowly, I could see this becoming our house! I really could.
Jay and I decided on an offer. The night before we were to put it in, I was wallowing in my PPD. I had just been diagnosed and I was panicking. Jay called our broker and canceled the offer. Then he had a trip for a meeting. A friend came over for an evening and we talked about the house. I told her my fears and slowly worked through them. When Jay got back, I told him that we needed to put in an offer. One offer. Take it or leave it. We arranged a sliding price scale (stupid of us) for different closing dates. Now I know that we should have closed earlier and gotten work done before we moved in. They took our offer.
We moved in March 31. The house was warm and welcoming. It needed some work (read pull down that damn wallpaper) and I needed to paint the downstairs and REMOVE THE BAR, but we had a new, and larger space.