The problem with the whole everything happens for a reason and whatever is meant to be will be line of thinking, especially with regard to real estate, is that it makes me spend an inordinate amount of time and energy seeking and finding significance in the world. Sometimes, everything is a sign to me, everything. These times make me wonder if perhaps I'm bipolar and in a manic phase.
With the last house, I thought it was going to be our destiny to live there. I had asked my coworker how she came to move to her current house, and she had told me a story about how her son, who was two at the time, was sick one day and she stayed home with him. Not being able to get out, she started checking out mls and saw a house that looked nice. Then she decided to pack her son into the car and drive by that house, just to see what it was like, and she thought it looked even nicer. They looked at a few houses, still liked the first one, which was still on the market, and bought it without a second thought.
It just so happened that last February, Swee'pea was sick one day, a few days after I heard this story, and I started checking out the mls listings. And I saw a house that looked nice, and packed Swee'pea into the car and drove over to it, just to see what it was like, and I thought it looked even nicer. Then we looked at the inside of it a couple of times, and that was supposed to be it. We were supposed to buy it without a second thought. But we didn't get it. (And, at the time, I was pretty relieved, and took the relief to mean that it wasn't meant to be our house.)
Right now, I'm feeling some pretty intense regret. This latest house was really something special and for all our obsessing about the fact that it was not walking distance to downtown, I didn't place proper priority on the fact that it IS walking distance to my work, and would therefore support a single-car lifestyle much more easily than a downtown house would. Living downtown would pretty much not support single-car living at all, unless Sugar D found a job here in town. Sadly, this realization didn't come to me until after we found out we didn't get the house.
I'm also intensely regretting not removing the condition of sale this morning. We had such a long closing date that it would have been very low risk (unlike the last house, which had a closing date that pretty much guaranteed at least some bridge financing), especially in this seller's market. We would have had four months to sell our house. Sadly, this realization didn't come to me until after we found out that we didn't get the house, and that it went to another conditional offer, a conditional offer with a reasonably short timeframe to waive the conditions.
When Sugar D came home, I asked him if he was sad about it. He said, "Enh... not really. It just wasn't meant to be."
And I said, "Well I KNOW that but I'm still sad that it wasn't meant to be."
Most of me figures, well we've learned something. The first time we were so gung-ho, we threw caution to the wind. The second time we were too cautious. So the third time we should get it just right, right?
But there's another part of me that believes that if I'm feeling this much intense regret, surely that house is meant to be ours? Surely it means that something will fall through in the other offer and we'll end up getting it, right?
Where a few hours ago, I wanted the possibilities to go away and leave me with some certainty, now, I'm clinging to that thread of hope, still wanting to believe that we'll end up in that house and someday laugh about how it almost never was.
Weekend Reading: The Trying to Rally Edition
2 days ago