You know what? Weekends seem a lot shorter when you have a job to go to Monday morning. For like three months, weekends only felt different to me because Joe was home, which meant I (usually) showered before five o'clock. But this working thing? Working full-time, I mean? It's really cutting into my free time. For instance, I started writing this post LAST weekend and this is the first chance I've had to finish it. Although, that's not really true because I watched like three hours of Mad Men the other night but whatever I digress.
We've been filling a lot of our non-work free time with hunting houses. We found one that we loved and put an offer on but...didn't get it. Someone beat us. I would like to beat them. Jerks. But whatever, we'll just keep looking and I'm sure we'll find something. I keep going back to one of the first houses we saw that was built in like 1920 and had hidden little nooks and an awesome basement we could finish and WAS FREAKING BEAUTIFUL and just, you guys, we could not stop gushing about it. But the backyard is small, the garage looks like a strong wind might knock it down, and it's right on a busy street. This is what I keep reminding myself. Plus, we saw the electricity bills for the summer and the gas bills for the winter and HOLY MARY MOTHER OF GOD were they high. SIGH.
We looked at eight houses this morning and I have to admit, I'm feeling a bit discouraged because we weren't really wild about any of them. Two were OK but we had reservations about both. And my notes on the houses? The notes that started out really detailed with stuff like...I don't even remember, something about the taxes and the size of the rooms and whatever, house stuff? Those have devolved into this:
Which is not altogether helpful but, you guys, this house TOTALLY HAD A MURDER ROOM. I'm almost positive I saw blood on the walls but I don't know, I'm not a blood spatter expert.