Stabbing Eyeballs

This house hunt BD and I are presently engaged upon is enough to make me go completely ’round the bend, letting all my crazy flap in the wind.

We’re told this is a buyers market, especially out here, which I guess explains why EVERY single house we want is under contract the very SECOND we entertain the thought of maybe making an offer.  It’s enough to make a questionably sane person stab someone right through the eyeball.
If I may…

House #1 was a fixer-upper, and by that I mean there was an engine just chillin’ in the backyard.  Honda, I believe it was.    We could tell the bathrooms were an opportunity for a little upgrade. But that’s probably just because they were all in a pile.  On the porch.  None the less (and completely ignoring the ominous “crawl space”, which just screamed “dead bodies r us”) we thought it had some great potential.  One acre of land in the middle of the city?  All the homes surrounding it costing upwards of $200,000 more? How could we NOT buy this diamond in the rough?  Well, probably because it was under contract. The first day we looked at the damn thing.

(The saga of  house #2 has actually been updated since I began this post, but it all ends the SAME way.)


I got a call from BD a few months ago when I was in some other state for work, as happens quite often around here.  He said that he and his mom and sister had found a house they all absolutely LOVED.  It was perfect, he said.  A 3600 sq ft house (yes, we want a LOT of room, shut up) on a large lot (1/2 acre!) in a neighborhood where all the rest of the homes were much more expensive.  Again, it was a foreclosure/fixer upper, but we’re cool with that so…  The sneak and his cohorts even managed to give themselves a tour of the house, since both the gate to the backyard and the patio door were unlocked.  (What’s a little B & E among friends, anyway?)  Of course, when BD called to get an “official” showing of the house so I could see it, the damn thing was under contract.  Natch.


Fast forward to last month.  After a loooong day of looking at houses with our *new* realtor (BD’s sister Ams, who just passed her exams) we were taking a break and reviewing what we had seen so far.  BD started moaning about  house #2, and how it was perfect, blah blah blah.  Ams decided to call the realtor on the off chance the contract had fallen through, and (cue celestial music here) it had!  We raced out to the property, took a whirlwind tour, setteled on a bid (which we now realize was WAY low) and proceeded to place all our hopes and dreams on this ONE house.  Which…of course…was a terrible idea.  The bank rejected our bid, and by the time we had another one prepared, the house was (all together now) UNDER CONTRACT.


I could go on, but I think you get the idea.  We have missed the mark on FOUR more houses since then.  Sigh.  We just spent our ENTIRE Labor Day weekend driving around, looking at houses.


I think I’m starting to dream in square feet.


We’ve got our eye on a few more houses, but I’m not telling which ones, so that the real estate gods can’t curse us again with the under contract nonsense.  I’ll know more by the end of the week, so I’ll end this on a cautiously optimistic note…fingers crossed!


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Filed under my life let me show you it, this old house

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