While Husband and I were on our honeymoon, which coincidentally happened to be the same place where we had matched just two days before the wedding, we took the opportunity to look at some property since we’ll be spending our next six years there together.  (Quite honestly though, since I gave us a 50% chance of ending up at Utah and Husband thought it was higher than that, I think we sort of “knew”…)

Looking at property starts out being really fun, but then it progressively gets more and more tiring.  And then you realize how long you’ve been looking at property because it’s already dark outside (or even darker outside) and you think to yourself, “I still don’t know where I want to live next year, feel like we haven’t seen anything even though we’ve been out all day, AND I’m damn tired of making polite conversation with our realtor!”

Sometimes I think it’d be kinder to have the buyers just follow the realtor’s car, but then again, I think we learned a lot from ours while we were driving… and making polite conversation when not enduring the occasional long silences.

But back to the house.  There was one house- rather, townhouse- that Husband and I were interested in.  When we first walked around, I wasn’t too excited; our realtor kept pointing out things we would need to replace and change, and I didn’t think it was super worth it, given the age of the unit.  However, Husband was pretty excited about it, and since it was the first and only thing we had seen all day that he had gotten excited about, I decided to pay attention.  It was cute.  Just the perfect size- not too big, not too small.  Pretty bamboo hardwood floors (and man, am I a sucker for bamboo!), a convenient half-bath downstairs, and a narrow staircase heading upstairs.

We were thinking and hoping that we could get a lower price for it and sent our contract and offer in to the realtor over the weekend, but I found out today that somebody else had already put in an offer and there “wasn’t much flexibility on the price- would we like to raise our offer?”

Husband’s dad is our real estate guru, the one we turn to when we need advice on what the hell to do next in this process, and he has already told us long ago never to get into a bidding war: “They always end poorly.”  Yeah, I can believe that.

So, Husband and I are withdrawing our offer, and I’m secretly hoping that this offer will fall through and we will get “our” townhouse.  Even though I wasn’t the biggest fan, this place had obvious things going for it: proximity to the hospital and enough covered garage space for both of our cars.  And for the past three weeks, whenever Husband and I have been thinking about what we need to bring to Utah and what to leave behind, in our collective minds’ eyes we were seeing that little townhouse as home.

And now we have to make another trip to Utah to find a place to live next year.  Probably look into renting for a year, which means moving yet again while in residency and probably another year before we find “home” in Utah. Big bummer.  Oh well.

(Also tempting to spend the next year living out of boxes!  But I’m pretty sure that Husband will veto that idea quickly.)

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