Today was house-hunting day and once more I was caught unawares by time frames. In this case it was by just how fast things are being snapped up where we’re looking. Our realtor picked us up and off we went to the boonies. And much drooling, and much disappointment.
We went with the thought in mind of purchasing on a short sale basis, thinking in terms of a 4-month turnaround. Um… no. Of the three homes we went to see, two sold TODAY. And that isn’t even unusual. The average turnaround in that community is roughly 15-20 days at the upper end. Which is one of a thousand or so reasons I want to move there. It’s an investment as much as a purchase, though that isn’t the reason we’re moving. The only home that hadn’t sold wasn’t a short sale, which means the timing sucketh for us. It would close mid-December, which ain’t doable.
I will be off work from November 22 through December 6 if all goes well. From then until mid January our business will be pretty much at a dead standstill and if I’m giving myself time to heal I’ll be largely at a standstill, too. Then my world (at work anyway) will explode. I would dearly love to run with things and move before Christmas. I could do it from a monetary standpoint as to the move itself. But nobody would rent this place behind us a week before Christmas, and we can’t do the move and the lease buyout and the whole shitload of other stuff – not to mention the mobility issues coming right after surgery. I don’t want to move on crutches and don’t want to magnify my commute until I am more mobile, either.
But both G and I wanted the house that was actually still available. We want it like crazy, actually. (We did see a couple of others, one of the ones that sold today and another that was our fourth choice.) The one we fell for was the smallest place, not a short sale (darn it) and more gorgeous than the pictures do justice. It was house 1 from yesterday’s entry. Hardwood floors, tile, gas fireplace (triple bonus points for a fireplace without the mess), French doors, gorgeous kitchen, storage up the wazoo, backyard mostly landscaped and with underground sprinklers already installed. Right dead center of what I’d be comfortable paying, and even a workshop in the garage for G. It backed to a main road so a bit of noise in the yard but beautifully silent indoors.
There could be a miracle and it could be available six weeks from now. Or there could be a comparable property available then that would have more space. We’ll have to wait and see how it plays out. I’ll just continue to trust that everything happens for a reason and in its right time.
Of course we could also win the lottery tomorrow and that would solve everything. Hire movers, buy new car, buy house, blah blah. But when mid December rolls around, if I’m working again and functionally mobile (walking or wheelchair) I am going to push it through. G wants us to get another vehicle first. I say we can’t afford another vehicle until we get the house. I could just shrug and plow ahead. Not my style and not necessary.
Frustrated as I get with G, I do think we balance each other. I’m impulsive as heck and jump with faith that somebody’s waiting with a net or that between my jump and landing I’ll figure out how to bounce. G is so cautious he shakes out his shorts worrying there might be a wrinkle. Both points of view have their validity. I say if you never take risks you never get anywhere. Then again, my history’s about as random as you’d imagine from that philosophy. Not that G’s got any better record with his plodding approach. I don’t wait for him to drag his feet – I drag him along behind me or go without him. He grounds me to keep me from leaping prematurely.
One thing I really appreciate: our taste is almost 100% in alignment. It’s a rare thing that one likes and the other doesn’t. Except the Addams family, that is.