Well, my husband and I are searching for a new place. We had two completely different ways of going with this. We could head north and I could go to a University and we would pay a lot for rent and he would have a very long commute. Or we could go east and I could go to a Community College and we would have a smaller rent and he would have a shorter commute. We decided on the financially stable route. I could always go to a University later on, but right now I just want my nursing degree so I can begin working.
With my attentions toward the east option, I found four possible places. Three little white houses and one brick. I set up an inside viewing for the brick house and the realtor requested that we viewed the exterior of the white houses before we schedule an inside look. We drove by the white houses and, honestly, we were too afraid to get out and walk around them. All three were in sketchy-sketch neighborhoods. But then there was the brick house. Three bedrooms, one bath, and an unfinished basement. I was raised out in the country so I'm not used to being able to see other houses from my front yard, so neighborhoods make me feel claustrophobic. However, there was a large deck on the back that was positioned perfectly so you could only see trees. Best of all, the neighborhood was actually good!
The landlords showed up to unlock the house for us. They were super sweet and very willing to work with us on any repairs or changes we wanted to make to the house. That was such a huge difference to our last place that considered any repair a damage. Which was extra horrible since everything in that house broke. The tub fell in the first week! Come on!
Jess and I were so excited about this place. We were walking on air! ...And then the realtor showed up. Within her first breath she began telling us about another woman who was "very anxious" to move into this house. She quickly showed us around and only halfway answered any of our questions. She then began pushing this other house on us! I wanted to keep our options open, so I agreed for us to go see it. She had us follow her, saying it was only a minute down the road. A minute my ass. I didn't realize there was a country portion to this town, but sure enough she dragged us out there. It may have been more land than the neighborhood homes we were looking at, but there was a house a stone's throw away with kids that go out and shoot and such. To make matters worse, the house was a bright yellow sardine can. I asked about storage and she said there was some under the house. I went and looked and I'm not sure if she was just trying super hard to sale the house or if she really thought the dirty, disgusting crawl space under the house was honestly for storage. I made it clear that I was NOT impressed.
Two days later we arrive at our meeting with her, cash in hand. And not just cash for the deposit. Cash for the deposit and the first three months rent. I was trying very hard to convince her to forget about the woman with the anxiety disorder and give us the place instead. Then the sob story started. The anxious woman already mailed her the check and has been calling her crying because it isn't there yet. The realtor continued to tell us (despite breaking all sorts of ethic regulations and probably some laws) that the oh so poor lady has four boys and has already planned on the house and the home is just around the corner from her mother who was going to watch the kids and on and on and on the story went. My sympathy has its limits, though. One of those limits is giving up a house that we love just to agree to one picture of the exterior of a house that we don't know the location of. Believe it or not, that is what the realtor was trying to get us to do. She kept showing us single exterior shots of random houses, telling us they're still working on them but they'll be done a month or so after we were moving, and expecting us to take the bait.
She began calling other people, all the while still trying to track down the check from the other lady and trying to drag more sympathy out of us. She began writing down other house possibilities for both us and the lady. The she did the impossible, she wrote down a town name and my husband and I exchanged a glance. We knew the town, we knew the location: right between the Community College and his work. We asked for more information. Three bedroom and two bath with a storage shed out back. She was able to get us interior and exterior pictures.
It was green. And I mean green. Our last house had avocado green everything: oven, stove, tub, toilet, etc. But this place won the green championships. Green shutters, green porch, green carpets. It didn't help that the green carpet continued on into the master bath, either. For some reason, we decided to work with her and agree to see it. We made it obvious we weren't going to give up the brick house yet, but we were willing to look at this new option.
We spent the entire thirty-something minute drive there nervous and unsure. The pictures told us to expect a green version of his parents' home. We started down the country roads that led to it. Finally, we pulled up in the driveway. The lime green porch was greener in person. We walked around the exterior of the house first. Okay, okay, green aside it was cute. Then we went through the front door.
It was definitely not like his parents' house. It was high ceilings and felt so open! All the rooms were large and it was such an AMAZING house! The green actually became endearing. We fell in love with the green house. We wanted the green house. We agreed to get the green house.
And that is the story of how the Bocock's got the green house at the end of the street.
Pictures should be coming soon! Sorry for being a bad blogger and not taking any at the time.