May. 16th, 2003

whispercricket: (Default)
Where I wax rhapsodic about the house on West St in Medford )

But no. Yet again, we find a house that we think we might like, and we don't get a chance even to think seriously about making an offer. I guess I should be happy that we actually got to see this one before it was gone. Our broker even had left a message with the listing agent stating that we were interested and to let him know of any activity, but the listing agent never called him back ([livejournal.com profile] arawen thinks that maybe the listing agent didn't want to share his commission, which is quite likely).

I've completely moved from patient optimism to utter dejection about finding a house. We can barely afford crappy ranches anymore, so why should I even kid myself that we could afford a cute antique colonial in an area that has a few trees and isn't leagues away from everyone I know?

I'm so not expressing myself properly. I want to scream, I want to cry, the loss and rejection gives me headaches...but I guess we'll just keep going, and going, and going, like demented Energizer bunnies on acid.

(I know rental prices are low, and I'm still tracking them, but I'm still not at the point of wanting to give up and deal with a landlord and attached neighbors and inability to make changes to a place and just apartment hunting in general. Not yet.)

Oh, and writing this has made me feel a little better. Hurrah for LJ. :)

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