House Browsing

Some of you know I've been house browsing lately, trying to make up my mind about whether or not I can afford a house and whether or not it's the right time to buy. For the past month there have been three contenders (for what I can afford), but I noticed tonight that one has been taken off the listings. I knew this house would be removed soon because the owner indicated he would rent it if no one showed an interest in buying it, but still I was surprised and it made me a little sad. What if one of these houses is the best I can do? And if it is, I'm sad because the happiest house of the three is now out of contention.

What do I mean by happiest house? As I've walked through houses I've noticed they each have a feeling about them. The happy house felt loved. It felt as if it had protected and provided warmth to people who cared about each other and about the house. It's hard to explain and maybe it sounds a little kooky, but places do have vibes. For instance, the house next door to me is up for sale so I had a Realtor walk me through. Ugh. By the time I was done I wanted to cry. The feeling was heavy, dark and full of despair. It wouldn't matter how much they came down in price, I would never buy the place. One of my contenders, the biggest and the one with the most to offer, felt sad. My mom went to see it with me and she described it as heartbroken; very appropriate. It's a perfectly good house, but it feels as if there was an extended period of sadness inside and as if the house itself hasn't been truly loved for a very long time. My third contender is a tiny house that feels a little unsure. It's been redone very nicely inside, so maybe it just hasn't gotten used to its new look.

I know some of you may think I'm a little crazy to say that an empty house has an atmosphere left over from its previous life, but I know I'm right. There is a feeling that lingers in the air. Years ago I was searching for an apartment. I took an afternoon off work on a whim and visited three complexes. The first two were huge disappointments (one was run down, the other was too small, both felt dismal), but the third was pure perfection. I walked in the door and knew I had found my new home. It embraced me with comfort and felt secure. The deal was sealed when I opened the blinds in the dining room and saw two doves in a tree next to the window. It was the perfect place for me at the time. I'm looking for that feeling again. I'm probably hesitating with these houses because they haven't felt like home. The house I buy doesn't have to be perfect, but it does have to be perfect for me. It needs to feel happy, secure, and loved. So the house browsing will continue. I just have to have faith that the right place is out there.

I'm Overruling Phil

It's Ground Hog Day and good old Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow, signaling six more weeks of winter. Nooooo! Say it isn't so! Please make the snow that fell in December and January go away. It's still piled high in my yard and along the side of the road.

I don't know about you, but I'm ready for spring so I'm overruling Phil's decision. I'm going to counter him with photos I've taken of spring flowers from days gone by. Maybe this will ward off more snow, ice, and cold. Maybe it will help usher in warmth, sunshine, and color. There's always hope. Even if the photos don't bring spring to us more quickly, at least they will remind us that it will eventually get here, even if it does take six more weeks.