Behind Door #1

Mood: sneezy | Drinking: for medicinal purposes only

It begins with the door. Always.

This is the rule I’ve learned over 11 weeks and 82 houses. The door is where it all begins.

Because you can never tell by standing on the street, you can never know just by staring at the facade. Anything could be behind that door. Anything is behind that door.

And once you push it open and step inside, that’s where the fun (and sometimes the horror) begins. That’s when you really begin to know what you’re dealing with. That’s when you’re finally able to see if you fit, if this house is one that you could turn into your home.

Sometimes you walk through the door, say “Oh, hell no!” and turn around and walk right back out. Sometimes you walk in, fall in love, and then realize you can’t afford something this amazing, not yet. And sometimes you push open that door and stay for awhile, thinking, “Hmmmm, yeah. Okay. I can see how this would work.”

Of course, just because you like what’s behind the door doesn’t mean you can actually have it.

Boy and I have been house-hunting for a good long time now. We know what we’re looking for. We know what we’re up against. And we feel like finally, after 82 houses, we’re getting close. (I’m hoping that’s not just the desperation talking.)

As I’ve explained in previous posts, San Francisco is not your average real estate market. Unless you have a gazillion zeros after the number on your bank statement, you can’t just walk right and in find something you like and say, “I’ll take it!”. You have to fight it out, battling through bidding wars between 12, 14, or 25 other sweaty buyers.

Everybody’s out there scrambling for their piece of the American pie right now, and they’re getting a bit vicious about it.

That’s why we’ve put ourselves on a two week break. On this sunny Sunday afternoon, for the first time in months, I’m sitting on my couch with the sleeping Loondog next to me, windows wide open, clicking away on my laptop instead of queuing up for yet another frantic afternoon of open houses.

We’re only a few weeks away from closing on our own house with our lovely buyer, so we decided to take a step back and settle down and let the contingencies fall off before we jump back into the fray. Isn’t that when big things start to happen, anyway–when you decide to let them go? That’s what my mom says.

In spite of the self-imposed ban from the MLS listings, I seem to be unable to get houses off the brain. So I sit here and ruminate about doorways, about how you often step through them without knowing.

Did I know, when I walked into the hallway of our current home, that it was the one? No. Just as I didn’t know when I met Boy for the first time that he was the one. But then, I’m not a big believer in “the one”. I prefer the school of thought of multiple possibilities.

I don’t believe that there’s one right house out there for us, or one right partner, or one right destiny. There are so many doors we could walk through, and so many choices that lead us to those doors. Combine a few factors in just a couple of new configurations and you’ve got a whole different universe of potential.

I do believe in fate. I do believe that some things are meant to be. But it’s not a storybook or a rom com. It doesn’t usually (or ever) happen the way you think it should.

So I’m trying not to read into the fact that our realtor called us yesterday a.m. at an obscenely early hour for a Saturday and got us out of bed and across town to see a tiny orange house that could (or could not) be the one.

I’m trying not to get all portentous about the fact that the series of events that led to her phone call were out of the ordinary, to say the least.

I’m trying not to get my hopes up that maybe all the right stars are aligning this time and after 7 (yes, seven) missed chances, the 8th time might be the charm.

Or, you know, not.

But I would like to point out that this particular door I’m standing in front of now features a very handsome lion door knocker. And if we get this house, I’m totally naming him Aslan.

-Lo, who’s afraid that her cold medicine might be showing in all this rambling.