Well, not really.
We just bought a house.
It is an amazing house, only five years old, craftsman style with beautiful Pergo floors, four bedrooms, spacious views, and a kitchen so big seven people could cook in at the same time.
We have been looking for a house since about March. We found the perfect house. We made an offer, and it was accepted. We got an inspection and worried that there would be far too many problems because the house was built in 1920, but there weren’t. It was small and had built-ins and ugly wallpaper and even uglier carpet. But it had a fairyland yard, complete with lamppost, gazebo, and old rickety windmill. I couldn’t count all the trees. I loved that house.
But the appraisal was not what the owner wanted. The Realtor told her it was too low (it wasn’t), and she refused to sell.
So now we have an amazing house. I’m glad. It meets more than all our current needs, and it has room for kids, which is why we’re buying a house in the first place. There is a vacant lot next door that isn’t buildable, so we may be able to add to it in the future. The backyard is totally gravel, so we have an empty pallet with which to build our own fairyland.
The thing about old houses is that they have so much soul. A few well-placed pieces and the houses just sing.
This house doesn’t have soul yet. We have to bring it.
And that is an adventure in itself.