So we walked away from the house, took back our offer. And frankly, I'm a bit relieved. It was a dog. Not that we really understood how much of a dog until we read the Builder's Report, aka, a list of things falling off the house or didn't meet the building code, which was quite long and made our bank manager laugh and say 'oh my gosh!' a lot.
It's back to square one, of Sundays taken up with open homes, poking window sills, avoiding slimy estate agents, Postie muttering under his breath about storage. Can't wait.
2 comments:
Oh that's good, it must have been fated to be that way. Good luck with the looking!
Keep up the hope. The right one is out there somewhere, it's just taking it's sweet old time. In the mean time rent "The Money Pit" to feel better about not moving too fast...
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