Sometimes The Best Move Is No Move At All

I’ve forever been talking about selling our home here and moving to a cooler climate, with better schools and where we can afford the kind of house we’d like.   I’ve been longing to move for years, especially  after I got pregnant.

I want Son to grow up in a place where there’s a change of seasons.  I think the seasons give a nice framework to mark the passing of time, and they add color to my own memories.

I want Son to grow up in a place where he has a yard to play in, where there are lots of other children, where we can take off on a weekend trip to the mountains.  I want him to pick pumpkins straight from a real pumpkin patch,  not a parking lot.  I want him to sled down a hill and run with glee in his shorts on the first warm day after a long and cold winter.

We’ve been so close to going so many times.  The MLS listing is written, the photos are taken.  I’ve spent many a night browsing listings looking for the perfect new house for us.

My readers and friends must be sick of the subject, as am I.  I’m tired of talking about it – I just want to DO IT.

But, like so many others, we’ve been hit by the lousy economy.  Husband got a pay cut last week,  and our home is worth only 60 percent of what it was worth three years  ago.  The  job market in Atlanta is so flooded that the odds of getting a job even for local applicants is a longshot, and if I were a hiring manager I’d toss any out-of-town applicants directly into the circular file.  We just can’t risk it, at least until things turn around.

The good news is that you’ll not have to hear me talk about it, at least for this year.  The bad news is that we’ve decided that our best move is no move at all.

It’s not about risk-taking.  It’s about not making a bad decisions because we don’t want to let go of our dream.

On the other hand,  Husband still has a job.  We’re living in a home we could afford even if Husband had to work at McDonald’s.  We have no debt other than the mortgage.  We have a healthy savings account.  We have lots of family and friends here, and it’s been a nice, chilly-for-Florida winter.

So, I’ll make our too-small house work.  I’ll find a school for Son.  I’ll continue to scavenge clearance racks to find things to re-sell.  I’ll continue my de-cluttering battle, and hopefully gain some ground. We’ll go to the beach.

I’ll count my blessings that we still have a home, that Husband is still working, that we can put food on the table. I’ll pray for those who aren’t as lucky.

But I’ve not really let go of the dream.  We’re just delayed.  I can live with that.

I’m going to make the most of today.  But I’m still going to think about that house.

Advertisement

The Taxman Cometh and the Husband Tries to Taketh Away

I paid my property taxes today. $1840.

Those big checks are so hard to write. Compared to what many have to pay, it’s pretty reasonable – and $100 less than last year. Yay us!

BUT. Since we so much want to be out of here , every mortgage payment, every tax payment, every insurance payment seems more like rent – money down the toilet. I understand that it’s not, and that we continue to reduce our principal with every payment we make, but with falling property values it just feels … not nearly as fun as paying mortgage, taxes and insurance on a new house.

Then, tonight, my husband came home after a bike ride and asked me how long I’d owned the house before we married. I bought it the year before. He then informed me, with a Cheshire Cat grin on his face, that he’d now put more money into it than I had (I’d stopped working shortly after our son was born). So now it was his house.

Not so fast, bub. I put 20% cash down. He hasn’t put more money into it yet, and won’t for quite awhile. Heh.

Besides, it’s in my name alone. Though my state is a community property state, it won’t matter if I bop him on the head.

%d bloggers like this: