This is really happening.
Our house sold in a quick ten days. I didn't realize how stressed I had been about the whole thing until I signed my name to accept the offer. Suddenly the phrase weak with relief took on a completely new meaning.
And, in the meantime, I put twenty years' worth of marital trust into Brad's capable hands and allowed him to choose a house for us. All. By. Himself.
I'm not totally crazy. It's just that the market has been picking up and Brad had found THE ONE on his last trip out. We had to act fast. So we did. I guess it's meant to be.
He loves it because:
- It was a good deal.
- It has a big backyard which is completely unfinished and will thus allow him creative expression in creating his own desert oasis.
- There are plenty of bedrooms, including one for the mother-in-law. On a separate floor.
- It's a "project" house, which means lots of trips to Home Depot.
- Most importantly: a man-sized garage. Big enough to live in. (Which of course he will if I hate the new house.)