The Search is Over

Way back in May as Tom and I drove away from a yard sale, he pointed and said, "There's a house for sale." I looked across the street and gasped. "Oh, it's my Blondie House!" 

My heart pounded. Oh my. The type of house I'd wanted since I was 15 and watching good ol' Blondie and Dagwood movies.

Well, we looked the house up online and saw that it cost $109,000. Hmm. More than we wanted to pay and besides, in a week Tom would travel to Africa so the whole matter seemed impossible. So we forgot about the house. Kinda.

Then yesterday I saw it again online and ack! It had gone to foreclosure and was $30,000 less. Wow, the deal of the century, Tom and I told each other.

We walked through that house today. It's in a beautiful neighborhood and when I saw the milk bottle box I thought, "Yes, I knew you'd be here. I've 'seen' you for decades." The same thing happened when I saw the laundry chute, coat closet, entryway, pantry and linen closet. Three pretty bedrooms and a bathroom were upstairs and a whole little 'house' for Tom's room/man cave downstairs:

And the corner cabinet in the dining room was a dream come true:

I think I even saw the ghosts of both Blondie and Dagwood. Happy sigh.

"We could afford this! Pay cash!", we reasoned (though since it's a foreclosure, the agent said the powers-that-be would consider us if we got a loan, first, but wouldn't wait around on a contingency.). "It's the perfect house for us," we told ourselves. 

But then we talked ourselves out of buying it.

We came home, calmed our emotions and then considered all the cosmetic work and the hiring of men to do it (nothing major, but still, there's a list). Plus, there's the paperwork, the selling our house, the packing up, the cleaning, the moving, the switching over of addresses everywhere, the buying of one of those stair lift chairs for company and Tom, the cleaning and heating of all those rooms, the way Tom and I would probably never see each other while rambling around in 1,700 sq. feet and how we'd have an excuse to collect more furniture which Naomi would someday have to sort through if something happened to us. Oh, and we'd probably be moving in a January snowstorm ...

Weirdly, I can't even get excited about it. It's like I see Grace wildly shaking her head, "No! Don't do it!" And even though this is the house I've pictured for 40 years upon hearing the words, 'Dream House,' I keep recalling recent days when I became downright weary just doing my usual housework. How would I handle such a huge upheaval?  

Though truly I believe if we had to move, Grace would help and hold us together. But we don't have to move...and I realized today I must love Hobbit Cottage more than I believed since I'm willing to happily stay. And it is a grand thing to realize that.

Though, gah. Tom says he's gonna sleep on it tonight, just in case. He keeps thinking about how it would be a step up for us, both the house and neighborhood, and I keep reminding him that that's a matter of perspective and priorities. (The houses may be worth double, but there's no river there, after all, and who says we need to make a 'step up'?)

Anyway, there'll be no more looking at houses for sale online, not by me. I mean, after you let the perfect home flutter away, well, what's the point? Instead we'll stay here (unless Tom decides differently tomorrow--yikes!) and continue to make these rooms more efficient and comfortable. We'll stop wishing improvements would get done and just do them. Finally.

And all will be well.

*****

These are a couple houses across the street from The Blondie House:

And here are more photos from the house:

...sigh...