These are my thoughts on Growing Up

... And buying houses. Because I think they go together. You see, I thought I was already a grown up. I have a college degree, a career, a retirement account and my own health insurance. I have convinced myself that because I've entered the workforce and now regularly go to bed before 10 p.m. that I'm an official adult. Then I started feeling like I needed to buy a house.


So I talked to the bank. And I talked to a real estate agent. And I talked to my family. As my sister can attest, I fully expected the bank to laugh in my face when I told them I wanted to take out a loan. And I expected the Realtor to humor me by sending some house photos. And I expected my family to say "Don't you think you're too young for this?" (Maybe I was secretly hoping SOMEBODY still thought I was young. Apparently not.) But everyone (with, perhaps, the exception of my mom) took me seriously. (And mom did, of course, come around to the idea eventually... She's a very supportive mom like that). 


This was my first clue that I was really growing up. I walked into the housing market as a 24 year-old teacher, with two whole years of experience under my belt, with no husband, and everyone seemed to think I belonged there. And even though I expected to look around for a few months and save a few extra dollars, before I knew it, I was standing in my dream house, imagining where I would put my non-existent furniture.


It turns out, I'm not buying my 'dream house.' (You didn't see that coming, did you?) The sellers were being a bit stubborn, so even though I really didn't want to, I decided to keep looking. Thank goodness! As my little sister predicted, I found something better around the corner. Well, not literally around the corner, but you know what I mean.


My sisters and I followed Jared (he's the real estate agent, and he's very good) to a house I hadn't previously even considered. I didn't think I wanted a townhouse. I was very set on the whole 'this is my space and my yard' thing. We followed him into the model home and I fell in love. Yes, I was one step into the house and all I could see was the half-bath and the stairs and I was in love. The more we walked around, the more I loved. I loved the open kitchen and the laminate flooring throughout the main floor and ENORMOUS master bedroom/master bathroom/walk-in closet and the view from the bedroom window. I loved the two-car garage and the unfinished basement. I can say with a great deal of confidence, there wasn't anything I didn't love about that house. THEN I found out that I would get to choose the counter-tops and flooring options and I knew I was a goner.


I tried not to get carried away. We went to look at another townhouse to see if I could love something else more. I couldn't. The second house looked like a cardboard box compared to my true love. It was cheaper, yes, but for good reason. As I stood in the significantly smaller kitchen/sorry-excuse-for-a-livingroom, Jared said "You're the one who has to come home to it every night. You don't want it to feel like your coming home to someone else's house." I told him I wanted to think about it and I would call him in the morning.


I didn't make it to the next morning. When I got home, I said a prayer with DJ and Ash and headed to the temple. By the time I got out, I had my answer. So I called Jared and told him I wanted that house. By 9:00 p.m. I'd signed an offer. By the same time the next night, I'd accepted the counter-offer.


I expected this process to take months. This all started less than a week ago. And if things go according to plan, I'll be living in my house, which I will OWN, in 4-6 weeks. Wow.