Swing and miss

I'm obsessed with house shopping. I figured it would take a while to find the right thing that would work for both of us, so I don't mind starting so soon. All the close-contenders have left me feeling interested, but still not sure. But close. Almost made offers on a few.

Then two weeks ago, I stopped by a foreclosure downtown (a few miles from school), a mid century among the Victorians (the style we want, the location I want, but yet, the style is not found in that location... except this one!) with a surprisingly large half-acre lot (what he wants), across from a park, across from the river, a few blocks from restaurants and bars (what I want), with a bedroom large enough to fit my ridiculous bed and a driveway to fit my ridiculous trailer... I could see the garage become a workshop and studio, and the large basement becoming a game room and guest suite. The vintage blue bathroom tile enchanted me, as did the custom, original kitchen. It was missing its light fixtures, but I was already finding the replacements on ebay. I called S and said I was going to make an offer on it. "Can I see it first?" he asked. I said you can, but there is no point. This is it. We made the offer. We raised the offer. We thought we had strategized to out-bid anyone else. We agonized as the bank took three extra days to allow other people to up their bids too.

And we lost. We lost the only house that has felt so perfect. I keep focusing on the whole "the only mid century house in the downtown" part, which means THERE ARE NO OTHERS. And I get sad.

So now I don't know where we're going to live, because our apartment is dirty and filled with spiders and gave the cats fleas and has leaning floors and a dishwasher that doesn't work and the bathrooms are too small and there is no place to park and it's a long drive from work. And the most perfect house I ever saw can't be mine and it makes me feel helpless. Stupid universe. Showing me this and taking it away, just like that. Stupid.