Missing our flight to Austin last weekend seems to have sealed our fate.
Denver it is.
Now we just need to figure out if the house we have under contract is the one.
I’ll set aside that it is band-aid/baby aspirin color and thus reminds me of a decrepit pharmacy. Its location is stellar, mature trees, kid toss distance from the school, architecturally interesting houses, walkable to parks and tea shops, with peek a boo mountain views.
The problem for me is that it is a bit like asking an alcoholic to move into a bar. When we decided to move we pledged to make as small a dent as possible. In our savings, in our footprint, in our life. This house wants everything. From furnace to driveway to kitchen to bathrooms, to new windows. You name it I would change it.
Some of these wants are really needs and so we will address them. But I will be friendless and jobless, in a sunshine filled house screaming out to me to fix it. New closet doors, new drawer pulls, new paint colors…FINE. How about moving stairways and cladding the exterior in zinc. Is that something IKEA can do?
I can’t resist a project. So the perfect location may not be enough for me to move into an ugly duckling.
Fix her, or forget her?