Now through this process I've told my family that house hunting is kind of like dating. The Bremerton house was like the guy who looks great the first date, then the second date you're suddenly washing your hair every night.
The Dogwood house was becoming very similar to my last long term relationship. We were great in the beginning, and then slowly things started to go south. It took me three years to finally end that relationship and honestly, it took meeting Scott and realizing how crappy my life was to spur that on. What would it take with the house?
Finally at the end of February we're done. We call our Realtor and tell her to pull the deal, that we are done playing with the bank. We receive a phone call the next day "The bank has to fix a lien on the house and then we can close in 2 weeks. Do you want to give them until the end of the week or pull now?" We decide to give them until the end of the week but look for houses at the same time.
We get about 25 houses to look through. I send 6 of them back to the Realtor to confirm their available status. I am super excited about one of them. The "Rebecca House". The Rebecca house is a brick split level, 3 bedrooms 2 bedrooms with a garage and a fireplace in a very nice neighborhood by my parents. It's perfect, it would be amazing, its...under contract already. Breathe in...breathe out...
Scott and I both take off work Wednesday to go see the remaining 5 houses before anyone else can. I leave work early and start the one hour drive to Winchester. As I pull into the city Scott calls me "We're putting in an offer on this house, it's awesome". I pull into the house and our Realtor has already left to put in the paperwork. Ok, buying a house I've never been in is not crazy...I trust my husband.
5 minutes later we get the phone call "The house went under contract two hours ago, as did the other 4 houses".
We walk into my parent's house to have some lunch that my mom made. I held it in for about 20 minutes and then couldn't do it anymore. The tears just start rolling down my face. Scott heads back home to take care of the dog, and I tell him I'll be there shortly. He leaves and my mom asks if I want a massage (she's a massage therapist). I sniffle "yeah". Well, the massage relaxed me enough that it all came out.
I'm sick of not knowing where we live. I'm sick of living with roaches. I'm sick of being surrounded by noisy people. I'm sick of not having my own space. I'm sick of using quarter machines. I'm sick of looking at houses. I'm sick of everyone telling me to be patient. I'm a failure because I can't get pregnant and I don't want my dog to die in a shitty apartment where she can't even pee!
After the last line my mouth literally dropped open and I stopped crying out of shock. I hadn't even realized that my emotional crazy stemmed from the deep fear my dog would die in our current apartment. Holy crap...no wonder I've been taking this so seriously and getting upset to such extremes.
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