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Meanwhile, House Hunting.

Our condo is pretty cute. Two bedrooms plus a loft, a roof deck and the restaurants/grocery store a block away make it comfy. It’s pretty much in the middle of all the studios where I record, so it’s convenient. It’s just not… ours. We rent it from a guy who takes weeks to fix things that leak or break but loves to pop in with five-minutes notice (despite this being totally against landlord-tenant code). That, plus the carpet and outdated kitchen, are wearing on both of us. So, after settling into married life over the past few months, the hubz and I decided to start hunting for a place to really call our own.

About two months and 25 open houses later, we are ready to raise a tiny white flag. Someone call in the bugle to play “Taps!” We are so done. I think it was the half-a-million dollar condo we saw today with surprise gas-station views, moldy bathrooms and shabby, outdated finishings that did us in. Or perhaps it was the 2-bedroom condo in the trendiest location we love that went for $120k over asking price (no, I’m not making this up. Foreign money, perhaps? WHO WOULD BID THAT HIGH?). Or, wait, COULD. IT. HAVE. BEEN. the one townhouse we saw that had the right amount of bedrooms, bathrooms, plus an extra office space, plus was walking distance to our favorite street… but we waited too long to bid on? Too long meaning 1 day after the first open house? You see, someone else had actually put in an offer during the open house, which was accepted. Grrr.

Those rats.

Oh, and if our realtor could just stop sending us listings for termite-infested houses in that one neighborhood I’ve said about five times I absolutely do not want to live in, that would be great. I even humored her by going to look at one of these termite-infested houses, but practically had a meltdown in the empty living room. NEVER AGAIN. K THANKS.

Look, I know there is no perfect home that will check off every box on our want-list. There’s always going to be something that needs fixing or compromising on. But it just doesn’t seem right to commit to a home long-term and drain our bank accounts for a place that checks only two out of ten boxes, with those two things being “has four walls and a roof” and “has two parking spaces.”


And don’t even get me started on how far our budget could get us in other cities. Phoenix? Portland? Almost any place on those damn HGTV house-hunting shows? We’d have soooo many options. In SoCal, though? Literally, you’d cry. I’m crying right now. Ok, I’m being dramatic. I’m totally not crying. But still. Both of our careers are very LA-specific so it’s pointless to torture ourselves by even looking at listings in other states. I don’t know why I do this. Maybe it’s to reassure myself that we are actually not crazy? Or perhaps it’s just some form of psychological self-harm. Either way.

My point is, after schlepping all over L.A. County for the past two months, things are getting a little disheartening.

I know, I know. Everything happens for a reason and timing is everything and if it doesn’t feel like the end, it’s the middle, so it’s not over yet so just KEEP TRYING, YOUNG BUCK (that’s probably not how that cliché ends, but I’m sure you get my point). WE WILL PERSEVERE.

Just not right now, because we are tired and need a real estate break.

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