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For those of you who follow me on twitter or facebook, you know that last night, Mark and I sat on pins and needles waiting to hear the news about an offer we made to purchase a house.
Just to backtrack for a moment, our desire to move began pretty much the exact day that Ava died. How can one live in house with so many bad memories? A house where I walk the same halls I used to scream at until I fell over in a heap of crumpled grief? The desire to move has been strong, but it also has been a desire carefully weighed against finances and affordability
After careful consideration, Mark and I decided to move after Nate was born. So, armed with newborn-weary enthusiasm, we began the process of looking for a home two years ago. Oh, we must have looked at least few dozen or few thousand houses and absolutely none of them felt like home.
Frustrated, we put the idea of moving on hold for a little while, saved our pennies for a larger down payment, and just last weekend decided to head out with a real estate agent and to get an idea of what was on the market outside the realm of what the perfected pictures on MLS told me.
Mark and fell absolutely head over heels in love with the second house we saw. And I know that sounds quick, but I have pretty much been having a daily love affair with MLS for the past two years and although sometimes I swoon at homes that are like, totally only for people with seventy billion dollars in the bank, mostly, the search results come up with a gasp-worthy abundance of circa 1980 Easter egg coloured walls and never ending pink bathroom tile.
Anyhow, last Sunday we visited a home and OH! MY! I have never walked into a house that felt so much like a HOME. I can only liken the feeling to that of an old adage that a bride will just know what wedding dress is perfect for her when she tries it on.
I mean, I just knew the house was a place that I could call home for a very VERY long time. And it had nothing to do with the way it was decorated. God no! Pretty much every room had either cringe-worthy country kitsch rooster or flowery wall paper borders covering paint hues that only a 7000 year old Grandma with way too many cats could love. But, despite all the cats, man oh man I could SO envision a future of Nate running through the endless corridors and rooms, opening Christmas presents in the family room next to the heated warmth of a red-emberred fire and then spending his afternoons playing road hockey on a child safe and traffic-quieted crescent within a crescent street.
There was even a main floor library, which I would have totally turned into a room donned with two high wing back chair in front of a giant furry area rug facing a cozy fireplace where one could have heated sex with their husband behind French doors. Because who needs books when you’re classy like me?
The backyard was lined with mature mile high privacy-enhancing trees and was spacious enough for Samson to find plenty of places to shit. The master bedroom was even so big that our real estate agent made some sort of comment that you could have a party in it and Mark was all, “Isn’t that the point?”
The home was, in a word, amazing, and the following day Mark and I decided to put in an offer. Which we were so excited about it, except apparently we weren’t the only people who thought the house was perfect because we were quickly made aware of fact that multiple offers were also being arranged.
And so, we didn’t get our hopes up because we knew we were going in with the condition on the sale of our home first, but you know, it’s a buyer’s market and with the right offer, maybe, just maybe we might get lucky right? Right?
Wrong. Our offer was rejected. Right along with every other offer last night because every single one of them had the same condition about selling their current property first and the seller did not like that one bit.
When Nate woke up this morning we told him that we didn’t win the new house and his adorable little sleepy face scrunched into a frown, his bottom lip began to quiver and then full blown tears streamed down his cheeks as he asked, “No Catty’s?
And we had to tell him that no, unfortunately, some pussy is going to have a hard time selling their gargantuan house in this shit market.Labels: From House to Home |
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Yeah, I know how you feel. My husband and I went through that. These days with the economy, predicated offers are a no no. People want their money now. Have you thought about putting your home on the market and when you get an offer, you can put an offer in a home you are interested in?
Oh, no! The house sounds so beyond perfect for you and your family. Here's to your house selling really, really quickly.
share with us the mls listing of this home you went to see.
Sorry to hear that Karla!
I hope that you achieve your dream soon ~ you so deserve that happiness XXXXX
Sucks. Sorry. Hate that, happened to us too.
I'm sorry Karla.
The same thing has happened to us is the past too. It just sucks.
Love,
Amanda x
Maybe the seller will come to realize how unreasonable they are being after Every Single Offer they get has that included? Sheesh.
Aww, that sucks, Karla. I'm sorry to hear that.
I didn't get my house either:(
Oh, that's too bad...but there are a million gazillion houses out there and there will be another home for you all...you'll see.
Im sorry it didnt work out ....
but the best part being
"Lots of places for Samson to shit" .
Spoken by a true dog owner.
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Raising Davis Darlings : March 17, 2009 
