Well. Well, well, well. Guess what happened to me on Thursday? I got a call from our realtor (who is a friend from high school who goes by his real name, Justin, now that he’s an adult but he still lets me call him Hank) and he was letting me know that the contract on the house we wanted busted and we could now send an offer if we wanted. HA. Knew it.
But, even though I’m acting all smug about it, I didn’t really get it right. I thought that house was our house for sure. But the funny thing is, we had some conversations in the mean time that made us realize it isn’t time for us to buy a house. What if one of us lost our job or like, got in a terrible rock-climbing accident (I mean, we might go rock-climbing someday)? We would be in trouble.
So, when we got the call, strange as it sounds, it was easy to tell Hank we were going to wait. We sure did like that house and it was definitely a good buy, but there will be others we like when we have some money in the bank.
We are pretty sure we will have money in the bank someday. Yes, we are still clinging to that dream. The first person who tries to bust my bubble gets a wedgie.