Oh, house hunting. In some ways it's exciting, in other ways exhausting. (Not helped by the fact that we're still not happy about any of this.) I'm discovering something about myself, though, as I sit up late at night scrolling through listings.
I'm a real estate dreamer. I can look at those old raggedy houses sitting downtown in a small town somewhere and fall in love. I look at it, and I don't see the peeling paint, the sagging steps. I can SEE what it looked like when it was new, what it could look like again if someone would just buy it and be willing to fix it up. I've always done this, actually. We'll be driving somewhere and I'll see a house that's falling apart, and I'll dream about what it looked like when people first moved in. I'd never really thought much about it before, but now that we are looking, I'm realizing just how much I do this.
It was really obvious today. The kids and I went and looked at a house that looked great on the agent's website. Huge house, (twice the size of our current one) huge yard, (2 acres!) everything we're looking for. We met the agent, and as we walked in, she said "It needs A LOT of work." The floors were gross, there were holes in some walls, steps that needed replacing, and a whole host of other problems, some of them very expensive. Any person in their right mind would have run away screaming after just seeing the first room. I didn't. I walked through with the realtor, taking notes and asking questions. I couldn't help but look around at that house, and see what it could be. The kids seemed to have inherited my ability in this, because they ran around, oblivious to all the damage shouting that it was the best house ever. They were ready to move in today.
I thanked the realtor and left, and then called to the hubby and vented and told him my dream. That all we'd need is a miracle, the state offering us a high price for our house, and the bank taking a super low price on the new house. If that happened, we could totally do it.
My brain knows the chances of it are slim to none. That the other houses we'll be looking at, while smaller, don't need such extensive repairs. I know deep down that we'll end up in one of the other ones. It's the smart choice, the grown up choice.
But I know that if and when we do end up in a house that's a smarter and more grown up decision, I'll always think about that one and wonder "What if. . .?"