In late August a house on our street went up for sale, one that I’d often walked by and wondered what it was like inside. I went to the open house, determined that it was big and beautiful but a) needed too much work and b) was going to be too expensive even if we were looking (which we aren’t, not even small ‘l’ looking, as E. took pains to point out at dinner that night telling me in no uncertain terms that “Our house is a good house!”).
The first day of school I found out that one of the families I know best had bought the house (the mum is one of the mums I keep trying to make into a friend). And although I was (and still am) really excited to have them on the same block, and I was super happy for them as I knew they’d been small ‘l’ looking for a while (they are really squished in their current house), there was a
tiny small medium-sized part of me that was hugely jealous.
It turns out that the house doesn’t need as much work as it looked like it did (they went through with their contractor) and it didn’t sell for as much as I had been assuming it would (although I’m still not clear how they were in a position to buy it since they are a single-income family- maybe family money, maybe they’re not as debt averse as we are, who knows- it’s none of my business).
It might have been the right house for us in four or five years, but it wasn’t the right house now. I knew that when I walked through it, and I know it now, even if it did have a third floor that would have been our library (just like the other house that “got away” nine years ago when we first bought our place, which I STILL think about sometimes).
There is something about having someone who is “just like us” buy it that makes it harder to let it go.
Do you second guess your decisions? Do you have a house (or houses) that got away?
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