The (other) one?

So, then there was this other house. Not in our dream 'hood. With only one fireplace and one bathroom. And she sits on a street with yellow lines down the middle and speed bumps (on my "no thank you" list). She also sits next to another house that has been converted into a business... (never even thought to put that on my  "no thank you" list).

And when I told Eric I wanted to see the house, he let me know the same (so do not let him tell you it was his idea).

But - wow. When we opened the front door...and saw the big light,bright open space...I think we both knew this was going to be something special. A real ...

diamond in the rough

Definition of DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH

: one having exceptional qualities or potential but lacking refinement or polish

First Known Use of DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH

1785

But we had learned our lesson with the one. So we put on our big-kid responsible people hats and didn't get excited. We were cool, calm and collected with a real take it or leave it mind-set. We would put in an offer just to see what happened, but we weren't going to have our hearts broken again. Not this time. Not over this house.

On the outside anyway. But I let myself get excited.  I mean, we were under contract. The inspections went better than expected. Truth be told, inside I was jumping up and down and feeling all warm and fuzzy about this house ...and it felt great! I wanted to tell everyone the good news!

And then we found out about the leaking underground storage tank.

The one?

After years of renting and talking and saving and renting and arguing and talking and renting some more... after months - maybe 9? - of watching and waiting and planning and dreaming and scouring our favorite 'hoods again and again  (and trying desperately to convince ourselves to like some that we both secretly hoped to avoid)...

After looking and measuring and contemplating and thinking about our maybe someday kids... after talk about moving walls and imagining remodels and wearing vision goggles thin... after month after month of tormenting our poor dear Fred we found it... the one.

Our house. And it was perfect. Literally. Perfect.




A 1905 Victorian mill-house located in the heart of  historic Dilworth,



A wrap-around front porch, four fireplaces, heart of pine flooring, bead board closets and a claw foot tub. I cried when I walked up to the original ornate door and the old school door bell called me to come in. I hugged the walls when I took in the 10 foot ceilings, the original windows and the delicate french doors. I told everyone it was more perfect than anything I ever could have hoped to have.



We were in awe of that grand ole beauty that just so happened to be in our price range, in our dream neighborhood, and - here's the kicker- on the same street as the house we have lived in for four years.

The structural report told us, a few weeks and a few thousand dollars later - blatantly, with no apologetic voice or sympathy whatsoever - that the house was falling in on itself and would take a good $30k to make it livable again. And no telling how severe the termite damage really was...

Fred said everything happens for a reason.