The problem is, I would be happy ANYWHERE.
It's the details that make me crazy--and this is a time for details, apparently. One house is perfect, but it's not in our school's zoned area, and there is a chance that the district won't let us stay. Another house is perfect, but it means we are moving to a whole new district altogether, and we WILL be moving schools. This house is smaller (less to clean!), this house is bigger (more space!). I think I have a favorite, and then I see something shiny, and ooooohhhhhhh, that looks pretty too. Choosing is not my strong suit, which is precisely why I want this to be easy and clear, one obvious choice.
But everything is an obvious choice.
It's the vegetables, it has to be. EVERYTHING looks better next to vegetables, and so I am trying to figure out if I REALLY love these houses (all 57 of these houses) or if I just want to eat them. I'm not sure.
Mike has been PATIENTLY waiting for me to ask his opinion. He's really given me no opinions, which feels a lot like I am drowning in a lot of really small, but really big, decisions about what I'm supposed to like, which ranges from finished basements to the color of cabinets. Until today, when I asked him WHERE we should start looking for a house exactly--and he said the words I KNEW he would, but wished he wouldn't. That we need to open up our search, outside of our school district.
Dear God, NO! I like it there! I'm FINALLY not driving over an hours worth of carpool a day! It's close! We're comfortable! I have a trivia night table! There HAS to be another way!
But he's right. Which is funny, because this scenario he speaks of is precisely the scenario that prompted us to sell our house. I had these dreams of moving one suburb over (which is LITERALLY across the street from our old house), and in those dreams, our house would have sold last summer, and we would have begun the school year there. I wouldn't have shuffled my third grader into this year of limbo, and it wouldn't have ended up being a GREAT year. Better than I thought it would have been back when I was trying to Jedi-mind trick our house into selling. Now, I don't want to leave. I want to stay at our school.
Which is the trick. I grow roots quickly, I fall in love easily. It's pretty surprising that I didn't marry a meth addict, to tell you the truth.
Tomorrow. We are looking at a house that is PERFECT on paper. It is what I imagine my dream house to look like. It is everything we want. I find myself staring at it's pictures, and then talking myself out of love with it, because the popular house never picks the overanxious girl. And unless it has an outhouse, I can't believe that I won't fall hopelessly in love with it, on sight. It is like a GIFT FROM GOD, that's how well it fits our criteria.
Aside from the fact that it's not in our school district.
Which means that, potentially, we are starting this whole adventure all over again.