"Hey, we found this house. It's wonderful. It's perfect. Only problem is, we need a buyer for the townhouse right away.""Oooh, that's too bad. I could probably buy it, if you were selling it in June, since my options vest in May. And I'd love to buy your place. I adore your house and I want to live there."
"Go see our mortgage broker. If anyone can make it happen, he can, especially if you're really serious about it."
***
"So, yeah, I think we can do this, especially if you get those letters together."
***
"Actually, I just sold some stock, so we can help you with the down payment."
***
"I'll send this upstairs and get a credit check, and we'll see what happens."
***
oh my gods I can't believe this is actually happening
***
It makes me want to curl up in my bed and just sleep till it's all over. And at the same time I'm excited, pulsating with a strange mixture of glee and trepidation: this is unknown ground. This is home ownership. This is...this is adulthood.
Really finally for sure being grown up.
What on earth am I getting myself into?
I keep wanting to think that maybe this isn't actually happening to me. That I'm going to wake up next week and I'm going to to realize that it was all a dream. And at the same time I'm trying to plan furniture for the new place: where am I going to put the fish tanks? what am I going to do with the extra futon? Can I leave the huge entertainment center at the old house? Will Roomie want to stay at the current Madstop, and if so can I give her the furniture I'd like to leave behind? Can I get a promotion and a raise in the next 90 days so I don't need a roommate?
And this means moving--picking up all my *stuff* and moving it. I have furniture now, for crying out loud. At least I'm organized at this point, which means moving will be lots easier.
And it means being *very* poor for the next few months as I pay for everything that comes with owning a house.
But: freedom from landlords and the ability to make my own improvements. (and responsibility for repairs, but eh.)
***
I wrote that on Friday. On Saturday, I found out that they probably didn't get the house they were after. So everything is sort of up in the air while we get stuff sorted out; they have another offer on the condo, so they can sell it even if I can't buy it.
But I *want* this place. Oh, my life won't be ruined forever if I don't get it, but for a while it's been pretty much a second home to me. I occasionally wander over and make myself at home and wait for people to get home. (With the permission of the residents, of course.)
And now the process of applying for a mortgage is well underway, and pretty soon I'll know if I can actually qualify to buy anything in the near future.
Highly strange. Good, but strange. Last week was a rollercoaster that's just now calmed down some, and I'm sitting down and trying to adjust.
I've got no idea where it's going to go from here; but I'm going to enjoy the ride.
And on Saturday, Misha and I went to Vancouver.
This was the first time I'd gone to Canada *with* someone. Every time I've gone, it's been by myself as a day trip to get away from Seattle, but this time we were going just to go. We arose and were out of the house at about 7:00, ate breakfast on the way to the border, and crossed the border at about 9:30 or so. I'm going to need to find another place to cross the border the next time I go--Blaine took 45 minutes going over and over an hour coming back.
And so north we went, me teasing Misha about her Mountie obsession as I drove. I do like taking the car on long trips--the car is happiest when she's given miles of open, dry road and freedom to run a bit. Once in Vancouver, we went to the aquarium and learned all about Beluga whales, and then to Robson street for a bite to eat and a trip to Lush. I succeeded in converting Misha to Lush fandom (what's not to like, after all?) and we each bought a necklace as a souvenir. Mine's a Celtic knot with cat heads at the top, on a black cord, bought from a street vendor for $10 CDN.
We didn't find any Mounties, but we did have a good time. When we got back, both of us were entirely exhausted from the trip, and I had to wake her up at 4:45 the next morning so she could take a plane back home.
I wish I felt like I could take the time to be amusing, at the moment. I feel so...trivial. Like nothing I have to say at the moment is interesting. This is possibly sleep deprivation.
My kingdom for a nap...
