My husband and I are trying to buy a house. I say trying because I don’t think obsessing over real estates sites and then sitting around on our butts really counts for doing anything at all. Real estate is my latest procrastination tool. Gee, I really need to update my blog, but first I need to look at a buttload of houses that I’ve already looked at before online. I’m really productive that way.
Our other favorite trying-to-buy-a-house activity involves circling neighborhoods like cat burglars casing the block. We have to get a feel for the neighborhood because we’re not even going to bother looking in an area that doesn’t meet our approval. The problem is that we are just too picky. When I say we what I really mean is me. The problem is I’m way too picky.
Is someone in the neighborhood working on their car in their driveway? Then that neighborhood is out. God forbid I live near someone who knows how to fix a car. Is there a vicious looking dog lurking behind a potential neighbor’s fence? No thanks. I don’t want to get eaten by a rabid poodle when I go for my morning walk. Wait … there are no sidewalks in this neighborhood! How can I go for a morning walk without sidewalks?
I use all of these excuses, but the real reason we haven’t started looking at houses yet is because I’m having such a difficult time with the commitment. I just can’t picture myself living in the same house in the same neighborhood forever and ever until I die! Oh my goodness, that’s just way too much pressure. It’s like committing to a tattoo before the invention of laser tattoo removal.
As much as the cheapskate in me knows that buying a house will be a lot easier on our bank account in the long run, the untethered rambler in me is having a heart attack.
“What will we do when I decide we should move to Turkey?” I ask my husband one day.
“Why would you want to move to Turkey?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I just picked a random place,” I say.
“We could sell it or rent it out,” he says like it is no problem at all and my whole identity is shattered. I’ve gone from being a free spirit who could move to Turkey on a whim to being some kind of evil slum lord refusing to fix a leaky pipe and delivering eviction notices.
We’ve made an appointment with our real estate agent for the end of the week.
He has no idea what he’s in for.
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