As I mentioned a while back, I’ve been haunting Zillow lately, looking for our next house. This afternoon, I went to look at one with Natalie, our real estate agent.
It was not the house we planned to see. That adorable house had been listed yesterday, inconceivably, at $419,000, and I wondered if the sellers were trying to start a bidding war. When Natalie finally reached them the next day, they admitted that they’d listed it for the wrong price: It was actually $729,000. Don’t even ask me how they could have made such a massive error. Needless to say, we moved on.
The house we did see was great. They’d completely remodeled the kitchen, taking down a wall to form a great room. They did an excellent job.
It was a perfect one-level, with bedrooms at one end and a huge family room at the other which reminded me of our basement. It had A/C, newer roof, windows, furnace, carpet, wood floors — the whole kit and kaboodle. It was well-priced, too.
But it was too far out for where we want to be as long as we are still working. Well, David, really. He’s got such a short commute that more than doubling it probably seems onerous, though it’s probably under 20 minutes each way. (‘m 🚊 to a* g Fell asleep writing this, sorry! Thought I’d leave the ghost typing, just for fun.)
I don’t think we’ll be moving there, sadly. We need to get our financial ducks in a row. We really need to purge our things down to a reasonable number. But seeing the “perfect” house made that process more real, somehow. Now, as I sort through things, I can picture the hypothetical rooms they will be destined for. And if I can’t find a space for them in the little home in my mind, then they obviously need to go.
Which means I’ve got a ton of scrapbooking to do in my immediate future.