The Husband and I have looked at three houses since we began our search three weeks ago and I've come to one conclusion. We need to change states.
House number one (a townhouse, actually) was in the right location. It was incredibly close to where we currently reside and, for someone who hates changing grocery stores, this was a major plus. It needed work, sure. First and foremost, it needed a good scrubbing (the dirt, the cobwebs, the horror!). Then lots of fresh paint, new flooring, upgraded kitchen and bathrooms... but as far as the actual space? It was great.
The asking price? On the high end of our price range, naturally. And it was on a "short sale." And please don't ask me what "short sale" means, because I still don't understand it myself. But I do know it means it will be nearly impossible for us to buy on an FHA loan. Again, please don't ask me what "FHA loan" means, 'cause I don't know.
House number two was just plain wrong. Wrong location (have you seen the movie Friday?), wrong size (The Husband couldn't walk through the "dining room" without bumping his head and he's six one) (and I use the term "dining room" very loosely because I'm still not sure that's what it was), and wrong people working construction.
This was The House of Too Many Bad Additions. There was a tiny little room (a porch in it's former life) which may have fit a chair. Maybe. A third
Later The Husband told me he was worried the entire time we were down there that I'd see one of the bugs, but I didn't. I kept my eyes closed.
House number three was so promising. So very promising. Within our price range, quiet and well-maintained neighborhood. Unfortunately, those are the only positive things I can say about it.
Oh, and it had a huge kitchen! Oh, the baking I could do in that kitchen! Wow.
But it was all kitchen. In fact, I think the kitchen was the biggest room in the house.
And the tile? Holy hell, this was the house where ugly, unwanted tile went to die. I mean, these people must've gotten a huge discount on all that ugly tile, 'cause it. was. everywhere. Even in the bedrooms.
And the door from the garage opened into the master bathroom. Hello? Does anyone else see a problem with this? What if I'm doing a number two and The Husband gets home from work? "Just a second, honey! I'm almost done!"
That so does not work for me or my delicate sensibilities.
So, we've only looked at three. That's not very many and there are plenty more to come (whoopee) (that was sarcasm, by the way), but trying to stay in Orange County (on an average married couple's income) is feeling more and more like an uphill battle.
On our way home from house number three, The Husband asked, "So, if we were to leave California, where would you be willing to go?"