Housing Madness

In May we started house hunting. It’s a buyer’s market, and we decided that instead of spending our money on rent, we wanted to invest it. So the house hunt began, and it was exciting! We saw lots of great places (and some crappy places) that were more than reasonably priced.

We put in our first offer! It didn’t work out. We put in our second offer, but had to wait and wait and wait and . . . wait and wait some more, because it was a short sale. In the meantime, we put in our third offer on another short sale and thought we’d have to wait, but—whammy—two weeks later our offer is accepted! Hooray! Rejoicing! We start telling people that we’re going to be homeowners. I start looking at appliances. I start looking at wood flooring. I make decisions about paint (without purchasing). We schedule our inspection. We meet our loan officer and get the ball rolling. Whammy. The property doesn’t actually qualify for the conditions of our loan, which is the opposite of what the original listing stated. Whammy. We’re back at square one.

I cry.

I dry my tears and put on a brave face.

I cry some more.

Damn you, brave face!

I cry again.

Our realtor, in her infinite wisdom, doesn’t waste any time and just a few hours after the incredibly depressing news has a new long list of properties for us to check out. We decide not to wallow but to jump back into the hunt with both feet. (I wallow a little.) We see some crappy places. (I wallow a little more.) Then we see some really great places. (I wallow a little less.) Then more crap. (Wallow.) But we decide to put in our fourth offer (on one of the great places). Yikes. Anxiety. It is NOT a short sale; short sales are of the devil. Hooray? They counteroffer. Yikes. Anxiety. We counteroffer. They accept. Anxiety. Hooray! Anxiety. Hooray!

ARGH! I’m going crazy!

We’ve scheduled to meet with our loan officer to get the ball rolling—again. Hooray! Anxiety. We’ve scheduled our inspection. Hooray! Anxiety.

This is the current state of my life.

If all goes well, at the end of November we will own a beautiful, spacious townhome.

If I’m lucky at all, at the end of November I will still be sane.

(Was I ever sane?)