Saturday began a whirlwind that will last until mid-May, I think. I looked at about ten places on Saturday afternoon and on the very last one, found my new home. That evening, I wrote my first offer. I didn't want to be insulting and I also didn't want a prolonged negotiation. As it turns out, the seller was on the same page and we both had the same bottom line. (Oddly, the seller is a female attorney who is about to have knee replacement surgery. In about 30 years, if I were to stay there, history could be repeating itself with this place.) Over drinks with my real estate agent, we negotiated a deal. By 11:00 pm, I was under contract.
My new place is in a building that I would consider aesthetically to be the red-headed step-child of one of the prettiest streets in Chicago. The building has an elevator, a feature my knees already appreciate. While I could move into the place without making any changes, I've decided that if I'm going to do this, I'm going to do as much as I can afford to make it perfect before I move in. So, I'll be removing the popcorn ceiling, possibly knocking out a wall to open up the kitchen, and re-tiling the bathroom. The mortgage shopping, inspection, attorney review period, closing and interior design are essentially my idea of hell. But, once done, I have no doubt that I will be thrilled that I did this.
And, as icing on the cake, although slightly embarrassingly but definitely fun-ly, my new place is in the same building as Melissa.
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