...so are we. The bank told us they'd have the appraisal ready by Friday, and let us know if the house is worth enough. Toby called late that afternoon, but only got the guy's voice mail. Sigh. It seems that promising something by Friday means "maybe Friday, if you're lucky." Or possibly "Call us on Friday, so we can sit around and listen to your message and laugh at the very thought of doing actual work, since we all have salaried desk jobs and only work when we feel like it."
Oh, well. We have come to an agreement with the seller, signed a contract, and paid the earnest money. The realtor thought the house would appraise for plenty, so I'm feeling better about that.
See, I have problems with being objective because:
I'm a pessimist.
Toby's an optimist.
I don't always necessarily trust him, when we don't agree.
We already feel like the house is OURS, to the point of deciding mentally what garish colors to paint and where to place our belongings. We think it's worth a lot, but what would someone else think?
We've lived in some really crappy places, as a carpenters' family. Maybe we have really low standards.
I am also kind of paranoid. You know, "If we want it this bad, it can't possibly work out..."
Maybe that's why I'm a bit moody this weekend.
Art History Sunday: The Blind Girl
8 years ago
2 comments:
Being the Optimist married to a Pessimist, myself--I can vouch for it being a good thing to have someone around who is willing to consider that things might not go the way we want.
Well your new mailman already considers it yours. I can't wait to see what colors you want to paint it. It would be so lovely to paint rooms new colors and NOT BE LIVING IN THEM! I love the painting, just hate the living around it and the moving of things to new room for who knows how long.
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