Last month I wrote about our exciting next step as a family: buying a house. My excitement was palpable. I felt like an adult! A real live adult! An American dream-er. So incredibly mature and responsible and omg look at us! We’re going to be homeowners!
What a difference a month makes.
As it turns out the market is not all that great. At all. The 900k two-bedroom up the street is now for sale for 880,000, which, is still quite out of our price-range, not to mention one-bedroom too small. So basically we’re like “fuck it, let’s just rent something,” because, contrary to what people tell me, it isn’t throwing money away to rent a house when you don’t have $175,000 for a down payment.
Sure, one of these days, we’ll puncture the sky with our swords and the clouds will rain Benjamins but in the meantime? We’re just a young family with a dream to live somewhere with three-bedrooms, a yard and central air-conditioning (Hello 100+ degree heatwave!) …
So every night for the last week Hal and I have been on Craigslist scrolling through options, side by side like we did four years ago, when we outgrew our one-bedroom apartment. I’ve become obsessed with googling rentals and doing neighborhood drive-bys and fantasizing over the kids having THEIR OWN ROOMS so they don’t wake one another up all night long.
(I didn’t realize how frustrating two kids sharing a room could be. Especially when one is as sleep-challenged as Fable is. If Archer gets up in the middle night to pee, Fable wakes up screaming instantly and then Hal and I wake up and the dogs wake up and we’re all up, fumbling and bumping into each other in the darkness of our narrow hallway. Oy.)
I digress. One day I’m certain we’ll be able to afford a three-bedroom house in our neighborhood. In the meantime? We’ll happily rent. And what a blessing it is that we can afford to do that.
And now I must end this blog post so I can go back to refreshing craigslist like a crazy person.