So, the house.

On Saturday, we went to look at it again. We brought our friend Liam, who is a woodworker, renovated his own house completely, knows what to look for, etc. We looked at the house thoroughly, including the tenant’s side. Everything seemed good, so we told our agent that we’d talk about making an offer. A few hours later, I called her and said we wanted to make an offer. She was on her way to the other side of the river (it’s Mardi Gras season now, and parades are everywhere) so we decided to meet up at her office on Sunday morning.

George and I were so excited, we were sure we had it in the bag. Melba (our agent) had told us that another offer had been written, but the seller hadn’t accepted it, so it was probably too low. I was a bit worried about this, but I figured if we wrote the offer on Sunday morning, we’d be fine.

Naturally, I was wrong. The other offer was accepted on Saturday afternoon. I’m not one for “if only”s, but if we had written the offer on Saturday after we looked at the house, we probably would have stood a better chance. As it is, the only thing we can do is write a backup offer and hope the other offer falls through. Mean, though, isn’t it, to hope for the other party’s misfortune? To be honest, I’m not that bothered by that aspect. I just want that house. I really feel like it should be ours.

Want to see some pictures?