Home Sweet Home --Finally, a Reprieve

One week ago, The Mister and I became discouraged with ever finding the house for us in MiMo...if there was a garage, there was no space in the house, if the house was okay, there was no space...and, when we finally did find a house, it was overpriced and would be impossible for us to be birthing babies and live comfortably in (fiddle dee dee).

Our realtor suggested we go look at a foreclosure in her part of town, way out in West Mobile --technically Theodore (other aliases include Teedo, Tito, Thee-doh, etc.). We climbed into my 2006 silver Scion TC with the white fleur de lys decal on the back (WHO DAT!?) and followed our realtor to the foreclosure in question.

"All of the houses are starting to run together for me," I lamented. And it was true. How could an entire section of the city where the real estate was valued for its charm and uniqueness start to bleed together?

"I agree. It's the same wood floors, old kitchens, and no garages," said The Mister. (Okay, he didn't actually say that...it just sounded good to go with what I was saying.) Long story short, we were on the same page. Midtown just wasn't scratching our nest itch.

Two days later, we arrived in TiTo. Before pulling up, the home had an advantage: the location shaved 10-20 minutes off of The Mister's daily commute to and from Biloxi, MS (opinion withheld).

Upon first sight, the home had two other advantages: it was brick, and there was a two car garage. The excitement was palpable.

Inside, we were thrilled to find what I consider a much more luxurious interior than the typical brick family home exterior suggested: vaulted ceilings in the living room, an open kitchen with a counter bar, and large breakfast area. The previous owners had been considerate enough to leave their wall mount for the TV. The fireplace was a gas fireplace...yes, this was quite nice! Not only that, the home has a full laundry room (i.e., future home of the litter box), three bedrooms plus and office that could easily be a bedroom, and two full baths.

It took a total of 20 seconds (3 of which were eye contact between The Mister and me) to know we found the house. It had it all: garage, kitchen, space to grow into in case the economy continues to fail (opinion withheld).

By Monday, The Mister was ready to make an offer. Here's how we compliment each other...I like to do a lot of reading and research and ask a lot of questions, and The Mister likes to get things done, so luckily, we didn't sit on the decision to put down an offer.

Tuesday night, we put in a really sweet offer then went and had dinner/hookah at Ollies (sorry, had to put that in there...seriously, I love hookah).

Wednesday, we got a phone call from the realtor saying that there were "multiple offers" on the home and we needed to come back with our best offer. This terrified me.

***An aside*** I've learned that pressure makes me incredibly skittish, like a cat that was raised with toddlers who were allowed to play with the vacuum. I get nervous, tense, and panicky. There's no time to do my beloved research and read up on this situation? I have to make a decision now? Why not just cut my toes off, too!?! Lucky for me, The Mister had a number in mind, which I couldn't even process because I was too freaked out over having to make a decision on le spot. Also, it helped that The Mister wanted the house with the same passion in which he wants a Harley...when The Mister wants something, I find it hard to argue. So, I said, somewhat out of breath, "Sure," to the offer. Now, someone get me a paper bag. ***Aside over***

Thursday, just after noon, I got an e-mail from The Mister. "We got the house." (He was on the phone with the realtor or he'd have called.)

Now all we have to do is the inspection. If everything is clear, we can close and start cleaning it up.

It's still incomprehensible. After being a nomad since I moved out of my parent's house in 2006, living in a different apartment year to year, it's weird to think that this is permanent. Kind of exciting, too.

It's definitely the country. I used to pick on The Mister when we first started dating because he lived in an apartment in the middle of the city (city as in traffic, stuff to go, see, do, etc.), and whenever he went to Wal Mart (just up the road), he would say, "I'm going to town." (I call Wal Mart 'town' now.) But, now that we're living in TiTo, it really will be going to town when we go to the store.

When we go out? Fuggidaboutit. That's going to be a stinkin' event! But, we can always take the motorcycle when we go out on "the town" and have a good time with it.

Greenacres, we are there....