And the Winner Is?

Today was a good day.

Not that yesterday wasn’t. But today was better. More fun. More on target.

This pic was from yesterday, actually. And we liked this house. It’s on a very quiet cul-de-sac, right on the sea (obscured by trees, but Right There). We’d make them deal with the urine-smell thing. What’s up with that, anyway?

We loved the neighborhood, and the garden had big potential. Okay, the carpets were blue with purple swirls (no, really) and maroon. But we could see it. It could be. And they’d reduced the price. Twice.

Now, the house on Snowdrop (you know it — between Violet and Iris?) was brand new and really pretty. Perfect for us. An “executive house,” our realtor called it. Which is amusing, because we’re not exactly executives. But hey. Neat house, lots of landscaping potential, which I can do.

So then we saw this house with an amazing yard and view. Tons of garden potential and view. There was also a gorgeous black cat with an amazing gold lion’s face. Alas, the house itself was crap. Like, crumbling drywall crap. The, you could pour a lot of money into this place and never see any of it again crap. Sad.

The next place, we loved the front, loved the back deck, liked the upstairs living area and bedroooms. Then we opened the Door of Doom. Don’t do it. Used to be an unfinished basement, until they laid carpet around the furnace and hot-water heater. A few bedrooms down there, appropriate for holding white slaves hostage. A little mortgage helper? No no no.

So, finally we went to see this other house that had been top of my list all along, from the MLS pics. First our agent said it had sold. I was a pain and said MLS didn’t think so. So, she checked. But it had expired and she had to call the agent, who was weirdly in Vancouver (across the water on the mainland). Turns out the agent’s aunt lived there. Agent set it up. Said we could go anyway, but the lawn wouldn’t be mowed. As long as the slaves are moved out of their basement cells, I don’t care.