Somehow, the only possible explanation being some kind of rift in the space-time continuum, it is now October. This is exciting for a few reasons but a little terrifying as well due to the fact that this means we now have just a few days over two months left in Washington. Based on the alarming speed at which the past two months have flown by, I'm a bit overwhelmed by all there is that's left to do.
What this means is that if you're alone with me for any reason, or unwise enough to strike up a conversation with me in a fit of boredom, you will likely be subjected to an hours long litany of the ways that I am simultaneously excited, nervous, sad, thrilled and horrified by the prospect of moving to South Carolina. I'm not even exaggerating. I'm pretty sure I talked my parents' ears off about this subject for a minimum of two hours on Friday and then spent an entire baby shower on Saturday trying to staunch the inevitable flow of verbal diarrhea whenever anyone so much as glanced in my direction.
All that's left to do is document my current emotional state here. Let us imagine that you've wandered over with one of my delicious lavender-lemon sugar cookies to pay me a compliment on the delicate balance of flavors, and then politely commented that I must be getting awfully excited about moving.
Well, I say to you with a smile, I certainly am excited. Of course, I'm sad to leave my friends behind, but I'm very much looking forward to moving back to the South, and we're lucky enough to already have a few friends living there, so hopefully I won't have to spend as many months feeling like a social pariah as I did when I moved to Washington. And of course, we'll be closer to family and I'm very much looking forward to being back in SEC country.
You nod, with a still slightly interested smile, and ask whether we're planning on buying?
I tilt my head ever so charmingly and give a self-deprecating smile. We are indeed, but it's turning out to be a much more stressful situation than I had imagined. You see, when we bought our house here, we were wide-eyed and full of hope, certain of our wise financial decision and proud of our ability to purchase our dream house. Then, of course, months later the market came crashing down around our ears and we've spent the past two and a half years wincing at each property value assessment that arrives, biting our nails nervously as houses in our neighborhood sit on the market for months and then sell at a fraction of their purchase price, and more and more frequently "For Rent" signs are in yards instead of "For Sale". Don't even talk to me about Zillow.
We've made the difficult, but at this point only feasible, decision to keep our house in Washington and rent it out, which makes getting a second mortgage quite challenging. We're much more realistic now about the pitfalls of home-ownership, so while we're happy to be moving to an area with a slightly lower cost of living, the romantic associations we once had with house-hunting are more than a little tarnished after our acquaintance with the harsh realities of the real estate market.
At this point your eyes have glazed over, your cookie is digested and you're searching for a way to extricate yourself from the conversation, correctly judging the fact that I've really only just gotten started on my monologue.
Fortunately, I say, smiling through the tears, we have a friend whose father is a property manager, so he'll take care of finding our renters and doing the "landlord" business, and we are fairly certain with a rental contract and the probably use of a VA loan, we more than likely won't be homeless in Charleston. We could rent there of course, but we prefer owning--even after our experience owning in Washington, believe it or not. We know a lot more now about how to pick a house that we love, but that also has better potential for resale value, and have educated ourselves a bit more about the risks that we are taking.
We're hoping to have a rental agreement and preapproval letter in hand by the end of this month and will be visiting Charleston the first week in November to house hunt, armed with spreadsheets, checklists, lists of questions, and inexplicably, a St. Joseph medallion despite the fact that one of us is a lapsed Methodist and the other a lapsed Catholic. I figure, in these trying times, one simply cannot be too superstitious... or religious... whatever.
Your head suddenly jerks upright and your face is suffused with a joyful glow as you suddenly realize that this conversation isn't real, you're simply reading a blog, and you know exactly where the exit button is.
