For the past three years, I've been torturing my husband, making him drive all over God's green country, scouting out potential future hearths for our family fire. We both want a home, but we both have psychological makeups that make home buying difficult.
We're both idealists and dreamers. That means we have a hard time settling. We want our home to be our perfect dream home. I love that we're impractical dreamers. I wouldn't have us any other way. But it makes home buying difficult.
We're also commitment phobes, at least I am. I love my flitting life; flit here, flit there, like a moth. But I know that even moths have to rest every now and then.
So this weekend, Mike and I took some long walks, which is how we make all our decisions, and decided...I think, maybe, perhaps, I'm afraid to even say it...to buy a home. Soon.
Why is this so hard for me? It's a pretty normal thing to do. I know 23 year olds who buy homes. I'm an intelligent, self-possessed, grown woman, but the thought of this makes me feel like a giggly 5-year-old with her hand in the cookie jar.
But when it comes down to it, Mike and I really like cookies. So we're going to get a realtor and try to get a home.
Here's the video that convinced us to live here. Especially the old creepy gawker at the Broadmoor.