Oh friends. I have to admit... I've been neglecting this little old blog of mine for a while now. It probably has to do with the fact that every post I begin writing makes me sound like such a Debbie Downer. It seems that lately I have every kind of blues imaginable: winter blues, baby registry blues, house hunting blues.
It goes without saying, house hunting has been an emotional roller coaster (although that may have to do with pregnancy hormones.) In the past three weeks, we've spent all our free time looking at houses, over 20 of them so far. One of the first ones we looked at and liked sold as we were looking at it. Another one with lots of potential sold the day before our second showing. We've seen foreclosed houses with mounds of trash, houses that have been sitting empty for months and everything in between.
Then, last weekend, we looked at a cute little 1928 bungalow and I fell in love.
Adorable, right? I mean look at those scalloped shingles! Three bedrooms, a galley kitchen that was almost too large, a beautiful walk-out patio and a cute fenced-in backyard. Plus, I found bunny tracks in the snow, and I consider that a good sign. Sadly, we gave it a second look on Tuesday and ultimately decided that it's not our house. With old houses come tiny bathrooms, narrow staircases, and awkward layouts. The main level "master" bedroom was so tiny that our current bedroom furniture wouldn't fit the space, and the two rooms on the upper level (aka converted attic space) didn't really have access to a bathroom. I don't even want to think about potty training in that house, or carrying a baby up and down the stairs all the time.
And so, the search continues. I've had to mourn the fact that we probably won't have a house before baby girl arrives (which still makes me really anxious) but I know that taking our time with this is worth it. Our perfect house is out there somewhere.