I knew that we would buy this house from the first moment I saw the email blast sent to my phone: “A new home is available in your preferred area!”. The house had just come on the market and the listing didn’t even have photos yet, but I had toured enough of these homes to know the layout from the description. The price was on point, and …what was that toward the end of the blurb? Replacement windows? That’s $30k saved right there. Hook, line, and sinker–I was convinced this home would be ours.
I called our realtor. I called my husband. Then I called my mom and my uncle (moms are great for inspiration and encouragement, and if your uncle is the Director of Facilities for a local college like mine is then you know he’s handy to have around for these types of things). An appointment was set, they would come.
We had toured about 20 homes at this point, mostly on the weekends when it was convenient for our family. Not this time though, no, it needed to be immediately. As soon as we got off work. Tonight.
I pulled up to the house a few hours later, let out a “Squee!”, and snapped a picture. It was better than I could have hoped. The cul-de-sac was tree lined, the house was freshly painted, and the neighbor’s yards were all meticulously maintained. Even better, the elementary school was only a few blocks away. I posted the photo on Facebook:
The caption read: “Just pulled up and I think I’m in love! Please, House, can you and all your mid-century glory be mine?”
And that’s how it all began.