Yo-yo, complete with strings

Our house, our almost house, could be our house again.

No, not the over-priced one we let go, the wee little one in the small town with the covered porch and the french doors. That one. After two weeks of house searching, disappointment, withdrawn offers and new home walk-throughs, we were real estated out. We even promised each other a weekend free of house shopping. That lasted four hours. A telephone call from an owner wondering if we were still interested in a house got us back on the topic, back online and back to the drawing board.

By Sunday morning, we'd decided that we did, in fact, want to live in the little house out of town and that we'd even pay them the price they insisted on (still below asking price, so small woo hoo there). We drove out to the most perfect town, caught garter snakes (me) and ate rocks (Chou) in the perfect sunshine. Then we called about the house, only to have our hearts broken when we learned it was conditionally sold.

After having our (newest) dreams dashed, we went straight to the new build open house in the city and decided that building new, while scary and really expensive, was decent value, all things considered. We settled in for the evening deciding to save our pennies and plan for a new build.

Then today I got an e-mail from the owner of the perfect little house that we'd now lost twice.

The deal fell through. They're open to offers.

And so, we go back in an hour to (we hope) lay claim to our covered porch and park like yard.

Oh, I hope this works.