Calgon, take me away!

People try to tell you that buying a house is stressful, but they really aren't kidding. This went from being fun to being WAY too serious in about 5 seconds flat, when we decided to put in an offer on this house. The inspection (a.k.a. The Notebook Full of Things Wrong With This House) is done and now we've submitted our request for repairs/credits to the seller, so we'll see what happens. The request was written up at our agent's house, with Keira and his two kids alternately playing in the living room and crying at the door as it got closer and closer to bedtime...and then passed it by a good hour. Nothing like making life-altering decisions under diress of screaming children!

Let me just say that now would NOT be an opportune time for us to rent The Money Pit, which is the nighmarish vision I have running through my head off and on lately. What if we move in and the roof collapses the next day? What exactly are the chances that one of us will meet our demise because of an errant golf ball? How can two people who own a grand total of about three tools be responsible for the care and keeping of their own home? What if The Perfect House appears after we've already bought this one and recognized its inevitable flaws? Blah, blah, blah...I guess we'll see what the seller responds with and go from there.

The hardest part is that everyone we talk to has a different perspective. Depending on who we talk to, the house is either a great choice, with a few relatively minor flaws, or a disaster waiting to happen. I guess this is the part where we put on our Grown-Up Hats, gather as much information as we can, and make a decision that will hopefully turn out to be the right one. And by the way, I'm reluctantly coming to terms with the fact that having a child AND a mortgage would officially make us Grown-Ups, in which case we should probably stop using words like "dude," "sweet," and "grown-up." Boo to that!