Fall Back, Regroup.

Real Estate Lady said that my email made a “huge, huge” difference, but my status of “I have never written an email worth 4 thousand dollars” still stands. At the end of the day, the other person with an offer on the table offered 4500 dollars over list price and I got aced out of The House. So, what next? Circle the second choice house like a shark circling a wounded toddler. It’s an easier “get,” but I need to take a couple steps back and try to see it without it lying in the shadow of the first choice house. It’s like appreciating your new boyfriend without comparing him to your ex. I just need a minute to decompress.

Second Choice house has no fireplace, no sweet fixtures, no walk-in closets, and floors that are less shiny. Buuuut it does have a possible garage (will need a little work), an alarm, newer windows. It also has a smaller living room. And a hall with a straight shot into the kitchen. Half of the door knobs are missing, none of the doors close right, and all of the doors will need to be refinished.

I’m trying to be really feeling this, but I don’t know if I’m not feeling it because I’m not feeling it or if I’m not feeling it because I liked the other one more. I can tell that Real Estate Lady really wants me to like this place (can you blame her? she’s shown me 13 places). I just…I have reservations, and the only piece of advice that 100% of people agree on is “wait until you’re sure.” I’m not sure.

I’m going to look at the place again on Sunday to take pictures and make a complete list of things that would need to be done. On one hand, having to fix the door knobs and such means that I would get to pick out ones that I like. On the other hand, that straight view RIGHT into the kitchen bothers the fuck out of me. I’d have to work out some plan for painting the living room one color and the kitchen another color without having the two looks “wtf” when viewed together. I just don’t want to end up in another place that I don’t like. As is, every day when I come home, I look at my apartment and think, “I hate you.” I just don’t want that to happen again.

We’ll see what happens.

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