This week.
Oh, this week.
If this past week was the angry, frothing bull, my husband and I have been the novice riders trying to not get our spines compacted riding it for a mere 8 seconds.
Where to begin? How about the beginning? Ok?
Ok.
After a surprisingly short search, we found a house. We liked it, we could afford it, it was lovely. So we put in an offer and waited an interminable 29 hours for a response. The sellers countered with a price a smidge higher than what we offered. We were ok with that. We accepted. They accepted our acceptance. We accepted their acceptance of our acceptance.
Hooray!
That was last Monday. My husband scheduled our home inspection for this past Saturday and we gleefully spent the next 5 days in Homeowners Elysium. It's lovely there - there are acres and acres of yards to be mowed and landscaped, patios to be decorated, soft, warm, rainy days to sit and watch the water drip off the leaves of the magnolia bush in the backyard. We looked at paint samples, looked to see how much a new lock set would be, toyed with where to put furniture. In short, we were excited.
Then came Saturday and the inspection.
There were the normal amounts of dings and dangs in the house. The garage needs a new roof. There's some siding that needs replaced. Nothing major. We thought we were in the clear until we found out about the Foundation. Capital F. It warrants a capital F simply because of the magnitude of the problem. Long story short, the Foundation at one point was starting to bow so whoever was living there at the time had it fixed.
Poorly.
The repairs failed.
So long story shorter, the inspector said that in order to fix this the entire basement would have to be torn out and newer, stronger, Tony Stark Iron Man metal beams would have to be put in to brace the Foundation to keep the house from sliding into a parallel dimension through our TV. It would be quite costly, and the problem is considered a deal breaker. So we started moving ahead to break the deal.
Haroo.
We were disappointed and maybe a little heartbroken. It felt like we'd been stood up on Prom Night by a date we maybe didn't want to go with after all. They always had something stuck in their teeth, y'know?
That lasted until this morning, when our realtor called and said that the sellers may be able to fix this. Apparently when their realtor said 'They have no money to fix anything', she meant 'Ohwait they might. We're not sure. We'll get back to you.'
Haruh?
I don't know where we are right now. We're waiting on paperwork; waiting to hear if the sellers are going to fix this; waiting waiting waiting.
I've also been dealing with a bout of the stomach flu that everyone and their mother (including my mother [hi Mom]) says is from the 'stress' of house-hunting and whatnot. I'm not stressed. I don't feel stressed. I haven't taken on any stress-related tendencies. In fact, what's stressing me out most of all is everyone else telling me how stressed out I either am or am supposed to be. It's like a giant, horrid recursive cycle of self-perpetuating stress.
There is a house out there for us. Whether it's the Foundation house or another, it's out there. My stressing and worrying about it won't help us find it. Your stressing and worrying about it on my behalf won't help us find it.
Just relax, and watch the water drip off the leaves of the magnolia bush.
