The very worst part about moving is finding a place to live. Packing, unpacking and organizing are all easy in comparison to house hunting. We’ve moved a lot in our marriage and finding a place is painful every single time. Every place we see has pros and cons. The whole process is an exercise of weighing options. If you know Peter well, you know he is obsessed with teeny, tiny details, which makes weighing options with him a loooooong activity in almost every scenario.
For example, we found the perfect place (perfect!), but it’s literally right next to the freeway. Like, RIGHT next to it. You can hear the traffic from every room and when you look out the windows (which are large and plentiful), you see Chili’s. Yup, you look out the window and see Chili’s. And Kohls, and Office Max, and Twin Peaks, and Sam’s Club, and Sonic. But the place is perfect!
There is another place that is in great condition and a great location, but the layout is terrible. It’s so terrible that there are weird cutouts in the walls that even the owner (who has lived there for five years) couldn’t tell me how to organize my furniture around them. He admitted that he never quite figured it out either.
I do realize we are splitting hairs here, given that we used to live in Eastgate. Can you believe we used to live there? I can’t. I just can’t believe it.