Deep breath

Well, the inspection was this morning. It could have been better, but it also could have been a lot worse. The furnace needs to be replaced--it works, but it's ancient, and it's an oil heater converted to gas so the efficiency is probably the pits. The hot water heater (really the cold water heater, because you don't need to heat water that's already hot, but that's beside the point really, isn't it) needs to be replaced too. The toilet in the main bathroom is leaking and the drywall underneath is soaked, but that's the current owner's responsibility to fix, which it's now in the contract that he has to do. And a couple little things--a loose cabinet here, sticky door there.

I decided beforehand that if there was nothing that couldn't be restored to happiness and safety for five thousand dollars or less, we would be good. And it seems like we're there. Even with the ancient furnace and a stay-at-home mother with newborn, the maximum heating bills were $192 a month. No fire hazards, except that one sticky bedroom door that's easy to sand down. No wiring problems. No calcified pipes. Windows with the built-in child locks.

So we're going ahead, and the closing is scheduled for June 30. I am only beginning to get the tiniest bit excited now, as I allow myself to browse the delights of the washing machines and dryers and (ooh! ooh! can I stand it?) chest freezers on the Sears site.

But really, I'll believe it when they hand us the keys. And I hand them a check for my annual salary.

And throw up all over everybody.

(P.S. In case you're wondering why my beloved husband is totally absent from all of these real estate postings, it's because he's been absent from all of the real estate proceedings. This is not a criticism, dear, just something I feel the world needs to know. Like the fact that even when we were actually standing in front of the very building that held the very apartment on which we had just signed a contract, while there was an open house going on for the entire place, you did not feel any need to go in and, say, take a peek around. Nope. Why bother? It's got a roof, right? And four walls? Space for sefarim? A washing machine that scoffs at the notion of quarters? A bathroom to fill with comic books and Captain America posters your wife won't let you put anywhere else? Well, then, what reason is there to look at it? No reason at all, dear. And that's totally understandable, that you wouldn't want to waste a whole five minutes that way. Completely, totally understandable. And absolutely normal. Right, everybody?)