for the good of my health; i vent.
6 months ago i shared that we are on the hunt for our forever, permanent, not-moving-again unless it's into a victorian mansion on an acre of land with a wraparound porch and stained glass in every window home, and since then, i have given a valiant effort on the hunt front. we creep mls on the daily, get new listing results via email from our real estate agent/very good friend/curly headed fuck like clockwork, and have even attended a few open houses and some private viewings--all to no avail.
honestly (and i can't believe i am going to admit this), but i have liked 3 out of the 857,106,72 homes we have looked at/been in/considered perfect from afar, and when i say like, i mean don't hate with every fiber of my being. and surprise fucking surprise, they have all been waaaaaaay over budget, in neighbourhoods and on streets we could never afford, not even if paulie was the ceo of go transit. the worst part is, every time i click clack my search info into the fields of that damn mls search (i could do this with my eyes crossed and closed, while sleeping and shit face drunk) i can't help but scroll that price range max all the way to
$300,000, $400,000 who am i kidding $900,000, and then sit back to drool all over myself, all the while cursing every rich bastard who owns the kind of dream home i want
more than anything.
it's a discouraging process, finding a dream home, and i give kudos and high fives and "fuck yeahs" to anyone who has been able to do it, within a reasonable length of time, on a budget and with hair on your head at the end of it all. we purchased our current home when we were 22 years old, and the stress i thought i was under then, doesn't pale in comparison to the anxiety that takes over me when i think about doing it again. why all the humming and ha-ing and inability to make a decision? why do i snub my nose up at every house that scans through the never ending list of 'for sales' in the niagara region?
the biggest reason, and i have almost convinced myself of this, is that the right home hasn't been put up for sale yet. i know that the chances of finding our dream home in the exact condition we want it to be, is slim to none. what i refuse to believe, is that something like it, a lot like it, isn't out there. when it finally presents itself, we will know. i will most likely know from the listing alone that it's the one. stepping foot in it will confirm that, and we will all live happily ever after. right?
maybe (yes. this totally is the reason) part of me still doesn't want to believe we will leave our home. our real estate agent/very good friend/curly headed fuck has been forewarned that when the day comes that we have to put our house up for sale, there will be no sign going up on our front lawn. there is no way in hell that i'm going to let every dirt bag in town know that my house is for sale, leaving it open to the general population to visit during open houses, just because they are "nosey" or "curious". which obviously is the number one reason i go to open houses, but come on, i'm not a dirt bag. i'm more of a dirtball. i also hate the idea of turning the corner onto my street every day, and seeing that sign, staring me in the heart, constantly reminding me that it's only a matter of time before i'm packing my shit and leaving.
the search continues. i hate being a grown up.