Last week I posted about house hunting.
Spoiler: the search goes on.
Spouse and I have been going back and forth about putting in an offer on a groovy 70s house.
Not this one. Possibly worse looking.
It’s so intimidating, though.
The 70s house needs A LOT of work. The punch list starts with:
- New master bath
- Convert an upstairs bedroom into a master closet
- Re-configure an upstairs hallway bathroom to an en suite with one of the bedrooms
- New lighting fixtures in the dining room, kitchen and entry
- New front doors
- New garage doors
- De-popcorn ceilings EVERYWHERE
Plus we are without sufficient furniture for at least nine rooms. The 70s house is huge.
We asked our realtor to write an offer on Thursday night, and then like magic! I found a brand new house in our neighborhood that called my name.
We asked him to set up a showing at the new property. This was Friday after work and he had an event to attend. He showed up in a tuxedo.
While the house wasn’t 100% to my taste, it came really close.
The inside was light and bright. The lines were clean.
There were two master bedrooms. The bathrooms were free of popcorn ceilings, tacky gold fixtures and wallpaper.
It smelled NEW.
I even loved the doorknobs.
It had price and location going for it. I loved the design of the interior, not to mention the sound system, energy efficiency and other high tech features.
But the tiny garage – with zero room on the lot to expand – made it a non-starter.
We had to immediately cross it off the list.
I wanted to sob.
Our realtor had brought all of the paperwork for the offer on the 70s house, but I was too sad about losing my dream of a modern house to sign at the moment. The realtor was gracious but I am sure he was not impressed by how wishy washy we (ok, me) were.
Spouse and I spun round and round on Friday night and Saturday morning, trying to decide what to do.
I think I am over-thinking at this point.
Historically, I have viewed the inability to make a decision (a non-decision, if you will) as a decision in itself. Having to hem and haw, and then talk myself into the 70s house probably isn’t the best case scenario.
The search continues.