It may be the pregnancy hormones, but I am not handling my stress all that well today. Our house has, after eight months on the market, finally (almost) sold. We've reached a price and possession date with the buyer, and there will be a home inspection some time in the next few days. This is good news, despite the fact that we would have liked to get a little more money for our house. Being on the market so long meant that we dropped the price two times, but hey, what can you do?
We feel the need for some extra elbow room, and we thought, possibly naively, that we would be able to find a house "one step up," in the next price range. Having been through some houses that are kind of at the next level, I'm daunted by the work/money they would require. They're bigger, yes, but replacing a houseful of windows? Finishing a basement so the kids have a place to play? Buying all new appliances? Yikes!
Of course, the realtor threw in a house last night that is beyond what we were looking at in terms of price, and OF COURSE it was BEAUTIFUL and we LOVED it. I wouldn't even need to see it again to make an offer on it, but now Kevin and I are having these awful talks about what can we really afford, can we have a tight year or two while both kids are in daycare, are we willing to put off buying new phones to keep our monthly cell bill much lower, and can he really stop spending money on records and me on yarn? Honestly? These are hard questions, and I wish I wasn't 31 and didn't have to answer them myself.
I'm so tired -- a combination of pregnancy, already having an energetic boy, and working third shift -- and kind of burned out on "house talk" that I feel like I might shatter if someone bumps into me at the grocery store: that is, if I can convince Harry to put his shoes on and go grocery shopping with me, and getting him to do that this morning is a whole different kind of stress.
Better stuff next time, I promise.
1 year ago