By Jessamyn
We are trying to buy a home in Chicago. (We have never owned a home; we currently rent an apartment.)
We have seen quite a few condos by now, and most of them aren't what we're looking for. Many are tiny or dirty or ugly. Some are in bad or faraway neighborhoods. Some are beautiful but out of our price range (our realtor doesn't take us to those, but we can't help ourselves from looking at listings online). Some are nowhere near an el stop, or don't allow dogs, or have no parking. Some are OK, but nothing special, and we have started asking ourselves, sadly, is special too much to ask?
There was the second place we looked at, which we loved and were going to make an offer on, only to discover that the condo board doesn't allow dogs over 40 pounds (ours weighs about 65).
There was the place we saw, weeks later, that we had decided to settle for even though we didn't love it, because it had three bedrooms and parking and was in an OK neighborhood, and we could fix it up (we started researching the cost of renovating kitchens and bathrooms). Then we found out that the condo association had zero dollars in reserve to pay for any repairs or maintenance.
There was the place we liked so much that I said "Wow" upon first entering it, so much that we had our realtor put together an offer less than an hour after walking through the door. We ended up in a three-day bidding war with several other potential buyers, which culminated in our offer finally being accepted (cue much rejoicing). A half an hour later, the offer was withdrawn. (What?)
Each of these times (plus a few others now), we have gotten our hopes up. We have started discussing which room will be Katie's, which will be ours. Where will guests sleep? Will we need a sleeper sofa, or will we have room for a guest bed? What colors of paint will look good in the space? What will our new neighborhood be like?
Each time, when we find out that our plans were all for nothing and that we have to start looking again, our hopes come crashing down to earth and shatter into pieces on the sidewalk. It takes a lot of energy to put them back together again, but we do. It's a roller coaster ride, except a lot less fun.
I'm sure that when and if we do end up buying a home, all of this frustration will be forgotten. But for now, we are tired and stressed and emotionally overwrought. We are wondering if we will ever find the right place. The other night, past my bedtime, I was staring sleepily at the computer, scrolling through new listings, and I caught myself starting to hum "Somewhere" from "West Side Story," and I laughed at myself a little. "There's a place for us...somewhere a place for us..."
I really hope it's true.