At 4:22 this morning, The Candyman started fighting off mutant zombies. It woke me out of a hard, dreamless sleep and I shook him until he woke, just so he would stop wrestling with the bed covers.
And there I laid, wide-eyed, with the worse case of buyers remorse I've ever had.
We put an offer down on a house.
And now my mind is about to explode.
I kept thinking to myself:
The house is too old.
I don't know how to pull wallpaper off of plaster walls.
Are the ceilings too low?
Will The Candyman keep the pool clean like he's promised?
How much does it cost to build a carport? A garage?
Is the driveway too steep?
I could NOT shut myself up. So when I finally gave up trying to sleep, I grabbed my phone and looked at all the pictures again. I felt better. The problem is I'm much too practical to let myself fall in love with a house. I'm behaving much in the same way as I did my past relationships.
He's too short.
He's too unemployed.
He's too needy.
He has ugly hands.
You know, the sort of stuff that tells you it's not the right guy.
But then you meet a guy whose eyebrows might be a little long, eats like someone is trying to steal his food and sleeps on an air mattress in an apartment that smells like curry. And yet through those things strange and perhaps not on your list of 'must haves' in man, he feels like home.
So maybe, just maybe I'm being a little judgemental about the length of this house's eyebrows because inside, it certainly feels like home.
What may not be the perfect house in terms of hardwood this and granite counter top that, it could be just perfect. And it will be ours.
Keep your fingers crossed that the sellers accept our offer.