I still haven't been blogging much because of our house hunting. Also, our landlords have decided to sell the townhouse we've been renting, so I've had to keep it extra clean in case realtors call asking to show it (since last Wednesday, four times). I'm not the neatest person in the world (I like to pile papers), and I have two young boys (scattered toys and handprints) and a messy husband (dropped socks, newspapers, nacho cheese on the counter and handprints -- don't ask about the toilet). And I hate cleaning.
Last week I was stressed about waiting for word of acceptance in the face of changes to the addendum. I was nauseous every day. But I'm a worrier.
We're currently under contract and had the inspection today (nothing too major, and most houses require a few hundred to a thousand dollars worth of work before moving in, right?).
But earlier today I lost the ability to speak for thirty seconds and thought the top of my head was going to go the way of Nidaa Alah mosque when, half an hour before the inspection, our agent said there was something going on with the water and we might want to know if the pipes were burst somewhere between the main and the house before we paid money to have the house inspected five days before the inspection report was due. (Denver had turned off the main water, but were apparently not aware they had done so). So it was okay after all.
I keep thinking that I can't wait until it's over and we're moved in. But I know owning a home, for all the positives, is going to mean many more instances of mind-exploding problems that need to be fixed.