We’ll never find a house. I realize this is a globally ridiculous thing to whine about, but I don’t care enough to change right now.  This matters to me.  Around November of last year, Nikolai and I decided we felt comfortable looking for a house to purchase.  So, we found a great mortgage lady and ran the numbers to see 1- if we could even qualify for a loan, and 2 – what dollar amount we could look at for a mortgage.  I have never been more excited to look at 30 years of debt in my life.

We got approved, got a tentative dollar amount, she showed us what the principal and interest plus insurance would be, and we settled on an amount below what we could get.  Next up? All we had to do was find a house, right?

Well, it seems as if that is rather impossible.  I mean, if we’re willing to live in the worst parts of town, at least a 30 minute drive from work, friends, and church, or way out in the boonies, then yes we totally can get a house for our set amount.  But I don’t want to do that.  I want to find a house near where our lives are already happening, because if I have to pretend to be grown up, I am going to do at least some of it on my terms!

Our awesome realtor created a report that automatically sends us an email with any houses that come up in the area we want, in the price range we want.  It’s been like two weeks since something came up that wasn’t in a 55+ specialty neighborhood.  I’ve been trying to keep my head by imaginary-decorating, and “choosing” pets on the Oregon Humane Society website, but mostly I’m just getting sad in the face.  Basically, I am sad that my life is carrying on normally. Someone explain this to me.