Grim Realty

It is so hard to focus on work when there are so many realty-related things to think about! Here are just a few of the random thoughts that are running through my newly blonde head:

Should we sell? Or should we “wait out” the housing slump? I kind of want to wait it out.
Hubster wants to sell.
Should “wait out” have been in quotes?
Are we really getting a bargain on the house in Work Village? Or are we just being bamboozled?
The Work Village realtor doesn’t seem like a bamboozler. He doesn’t even seem like a typical realtor. But maybe that’s what makes him so good. Maybe his niceness is all a sham and he is bamboozling our patooties off. Reverse psychology and all.
Is our realtor a patootie bamboozler? Ha!
We can’t afford a house. We can, but I’d rather spend my money on other things. We should stay where we are.
Do I want to live in the house we’re thinking of buying?
I want an old farmhouse. I want to paint the walls crazy colors and have a vegetable garden and write stories and play music all day and have hiker friends stay with us and help fix the place up. We could have a fire ring. It would be cool. And I would be just minutes away from the Workplace. If it were the farmhouse, I would not have these reservations.
Hubster doesn’t want maintenance. I pick my battles. I’m letting him win this one, since it really is a battle Low Maintenance New House vs Cool Rickety Farmhouse with Magical Nooks and Crannies.
So I’ve (not) picked the battle. I’m letting him win. So why can’t I just be done with it?
Oh no. We’re going to buy the “nice” house and I’m going to hate it and we’ll have wasted a ton of money.
Oh no. We’re going to buy the “nice” house and I’m going to love it and be a Stepford Wife with my bleachy blonde yuppie hair and my clean-shaven Boy Scout husband.
Is our realtor in Maggie Valley trying to sell our house? Right now? At all? Does he really exist, or did I just dream we got a realtor? Why won’t anyone come look at our house?
That farmhouse sure would look cute painted purple. Lavender, to be more specific. With Barney-purple shutters. Just like at Seven Silver Seas, the most beautifully painted store in Maggie Valley.
No! Stop thinking about the farmhouse!
OK. I’ve stopped thinking about it. See?
Do I really want to by a luxurious Low-Maintenance New House house that has calming neutral walls, wood floors, stainless-steel appliances, and a huge basement that includes a bar and will hold a ping-pong table? Oh, it would be such fun to have friends over for ping-pong. We could be the ping-pong hub of Work Village. And we could have the bar fridge stocked full of beer for all Hubster’s rowdy friends (who have, by the way, settled down … but they still love their beer).
Do I really want a house this big? I mean, it’s just Hubster and me. And the two cats. And our friend Dodger, when he’s in town.
We’ll have room for a million guests. And how quickly will we manage to fill every last nook and cranny with New Stuff? Neither of us are particularly big Stuff-buyers, unless you consider books and hiking gear “Stuff.”
It would be so nice to be able to walk to work.
It would be so nice to have air conditioning. And a driveway that doesn’t look like a safety hazard.
I can actually be home in time to make dinner for Hubster. For friends. And with a big old kitchen, I won’t have to keep my spices in two shoeboxes under the bed anymore.

We’ll have an awesome kitchen. This would be our awesome kitchen:

Do we stay where we are? I have a carpool partner now. The commute isn’t nearly as stressful as it was before.

Of course, “before” was the busy season. Right now, very little is stressful in comparison.
Should we wait and get something cheaper and nicer? Even though I’ve scoured the Work Village market for 7 months and am quite certain that this house is the best deal out there?
I don’t want to wait too long. I don’t want to have yet another house get taken away from me, from right under my nose, because I wasn’t able to get my eggs together fast enough.
It would be nice to live in a comfortable house with a ping-pong table.
It has gas logs. I hate gas logs. Gas logs are fake logs. They don’t smell like real fireplaces. They are as fake as my new blonde hair.
Will I like fake logs as much as I like my new blonde hair? (I really like my new blonde hair.)
And I did get so tired of hauling wood back and forth …
But I still hate gas logs.
The view is not so great from the “nice” house. But the driveway is flat. Hub and I have never had a flat driveway.
We’ve never had a garage either. This house has a garage. A two-car garage. What a luxury to be able to get into my car and not get wet, or to not have to scrape off the snow and ice in the mornings before I leave for work.
There’s an office in this new house where I can write. And it won’t be in the same room as the TV, the washer, and the dryer (as it is now).
I think we should get the house. Yes. The “nice” one. I just hope someone isn’t making an offer right now, as I deliberate to myself and finally make up my mind.
Back to work.


Anonymous said…
Buy the bar stools as well!
Waterfall said…
I'll see what I can do!
I see that you have as much trouble making up your mind as I do making up mine!

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