Best laid plans, right?
This past weekend just so happened to be our son's second birthday (sniffle, sob) which meant the inlaws were in town, which meant, we might as well go look at some houses while they're here. They are such kind and generous souls that they have agreed to help us navigate the home buying process and assist with getting us started in our first home.
We started off looking at a handful of houses in our price range, in the areas we would want to live. It was a gorgeous day, the sun was shining, we were rested from the birthday festivities, coffee-ed up and rarin' to go. Being the eternal optimist that I am, (Holly, quit laughing) I had high hopes that today might be the day. That we might see something extraordinary, something just right for us, something that wasn't falling down, or had holes in the roof, or reeked of cat urine, or backed up to a really bad neighborhood. The first few houses we looked at were just that; dilapidated, falling down shacks in bad neighborhoods. My spirits were sinking as we drove to the one remaining house on our list. I took a deep breath and said to myself 'pleaselethisbetheone, pleaseletthisbetheone...'
We drove around the corner and into an adorable little neighborhood. This looked promising. A cute little house on a nice, clean, little street. We pulled into the driveway and I swear, a ray of sunshine came down from the clouds and the angel choir soundtrack started playing in the background.... Could this be it? It's so.....so.......not a total piece of crap. Fresh paint! Clean brick! Intact windows! It's not leaning to one direction!
Do you remember that scene in Beauty and the Beast, when the Beast blindfolds Belle and takes her to his library? Do you remember how she spun around, taking in the beauty of all the books stacked three stories high? That's how I felt as our agent swung the door open and we we were met with only the smell of fresh paint. Bright sunshine was streaming through the numerous windows. A huge fireplace hearth whispered 'come sit here and let me warm you...' Each of the two smaller bedrooms had surprisingly large closets. The master suite had (drum roll please.....) HIS AND HERS CLOSETS. And a double vanity. The kitchen was a perfect size, open to the rest of the house, and had a cute little bay window looking out into the back yard (the almost half an acre yard!) Said yard was full of trees and shrubs, and surrounded by an upright, fully functioning fence. A third detached garage sat proudly in the back yard just waiting to be filled with tools and projects.
While the house isn't exactly South Austin, where we live now, it's not very far from it. We call it SouthSouth Austin, which is actually Buda; a quaint little community with a Main Street, a donut shop, plant stores, cafes and a train depot, and just about the cutest little library that ever did live. It's in a great school district that we can get excited about, and just a hop, skip and a jump to a little place I fondly refer to as Disneyland for Rednecks, a.k.a. "Cabela's". It is an outdoorsman's dream. Which I could give a rip about, but my man loves it.
I don't want to get too ahead of myself and set myself up for a huge letdown. But I have to be honest and say that the first thing I thought of when I saw the yard in this house is how completely perfect it would be for a wedding. I mean, look:
I hope it isn't too good to be true. It has been recently painted, inside and out. It's clean. It lets in tons of light. Our son sat down and started playing in the yard immediately. The neighbors waved. The street was quiet. There wasn't an eyesore, falling down, dilapidated house in sight. It's less than a 15 minute commute for the future Mr. Husband. Best of all, it isn't short sale.
We made an offer, and, as of this writing, we're officially under contract. Cross your fingers.
