Well, I did not get the condo. Not sure if someone else made a better offer, or ours just wasn't high enough, but it has been rejected. I know some of you may be expecting a virulent diatribe against a certain unscrupulous real estate agent, but I don't have that in me right now. Sorry to disappoint, but apparently I've moved past the anger phase and am now solidly in the numbness/depression phase.
I realize I just threw out the word depression because I wasn't able to buy a condo. Boo hoo, poor me, I know. That's what the phase is called. Actually, the fact that I can get depressed over this mess is making me even more depressed than I already was.
I had made a lot of mental plans for this place. I had a great roommate lined up. I was going to build a huge koi pond on the back patio with a three-tiered waterfall returning water from the filter back into the pond. I was mentally picking out furniture and calculating how much of my tax credit I would put into savings and how much I was going to spend on a giant TV.
And now none of it is going to happen, at least not at this unit. I have to be careful here or I might slip right into acceptance, and it's way too soon for that.
Maybe it is for the best though. I was mostly looking to buy instead of rent because it seems like a pretty darn good time to invest in real estate. Prices are low, interest rates are really low, and there's that $8,000 bonus from Uncle Barry that would make a lovely savings account by itself.
But is that enough reason to buy property of this magnitude? My grand plan was to continue working at al.com for at least three more years. I would be forced to stay three years or have to repay the $8000 anyway, but I would also start grad school at UAB while constructing a ludicrously large water garden in my spare time.
I have to keep believing that all things happen for a reason. Maybe this happened because I shouldn't be buying real estate in this town that spawned me, no matter how comfortable I am with the city. I used to have big dreams of writing travel blogs and novels or going to far-away grad schools. My three-year condo plan did not leave much room for such things.
The condo plan also did not include any provisions for a family down the line. It may be silly to try and plan for a family now when I'm not even dating anyone, but I do hope to get there someday. And maybe I'll find Miss Right here in Alabama, or maybe I won't. It seems I have better luck with girls not from the Deep South. I have a list of possible explanations for this (not "Rhett Butler" enough, didn't play football in high school or join a frat in college, maybe my inherited Connecticut roots let me feel more of a connection with Yankee girls, etc.) but those could be their own post. It does seem to make more sense to seek Northern girls up north, rather than combing Dixie for transplants.
Then again, if that snake of a selling agent approaches me on Monday and asks for something in between my last offer and his last offer, I'd probably give it to him.
The mind does funny things after too little sleep and too much high school baseball, so I think I'll wrap this up before I convince myself to join the Peace Corps. Just wanted to give an update to those of you who've been following this drama and a heartfelt thanks to all who commented or emailed words of support. These sentiments really did help and I appreciate all who took time to share your experience or even just a sympathetic sentence or two. You guys rock and wherever my future lies, I have been fortunate to know so many incredible people to this point.