I’ve been looking for a new house for more than four months now. I know what I want. I want a larger lot, a smaller house, a pool, good floors and a walking neighborhood. I want to spend almost exactly as much as we sell this house for.
What I have is a bigger home. I have five bedrooms, four full bathrooms and vaulted ceilings. We need none of it. We thought we needed a playroom, we thought we needed a formal dining room, we thought we needed a toilet for every ass, but the reality is that the kids are bigger now and they spend less time indoors with every passing day.
Every time I find a house I like Mr G thinks it’s too small. The houses he likes are too big for my taste. We are both unwilling to stretch our budget there is no need to go into debt.
Last night while we were busy not touching strangers I put it all out there for Mr G. I explained to him that I wanted to pick a window of time where we’d continue our hunt and if we didn’t find something inside of say 15 to 20 weeks we’d go ahead and refinance the house we’re in down to a 15 year loan, put some nice hardwood floors in downstairs and decide that this is the house we’re going to die in. The other option is to expand our search and possibly buy a house that needs a remodel. I told Mr G that this was not the best option and that I had limited energy for a remodel and that I would not buy anything with two stories because of my RA and…
His eyes lit up and he said, “Let’s do that.”
I know the look, and I know we’ll be buying a dump and making it ours, because there’s nothing Mr G loves more than new construction.
I. Am. Fucked.