Back to the Hunt

So I’ve checked my real estate app every 10 minutes for the past six hours, and it’s official. The house I’ve been dying to look inside for three weeks has not been put back on the market.

I was really hoping that whoever put in an offer would suddenly have a creepy little voice in their head say, “Take it baaaack… take it baaaack!” and that the house would magically reappear online so the mister and I can keep our viewing appointment with it tomorrow.

Yes, tomorrow. Somebody out there had the nerve to fall in love with the house that I have already claimed as my own inside my head where there are no legal documents and nothing stands up in court the DAY BEFORE I was supposed to go see it.

*sigh*

We’re going to live in a tent.

In case you haven’t figured it out yet, the Mister and I are house hunting.

“house hunting”

(1) a repetitive action in which you pine for beautifully photographed homes on the internet and then drive by them to find out those photographs were apparently taken 12 years ago.

(2) a state of constant remorse that you’ve ever spent any money in your entire life when you finally find the perfect house, but you would have to actually rob the bank to be offered that much money.

Thankfully we mostly like our apartment right now, and we’re in a good place to stay as long as it takes to find something else. So there is that.

But paint samples. And coordinated furniture. And hardwood floors. And a yard. For the dog. Outside….

My mantra these days is “the Lord will provide.” And I know that He will. His plans for us are so much better than what we could choose for ourselves, and apparently this house I loved (and the one before that, and the one before that) weren’t right for us and our future family and something better will come along.

But still. How can I pick out paint colors when I don’t know what the rooms will look like???

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Where in the World is Hwy 54?

My Tennessee map says Martin and Trenton are connected by two key highways: south 45 and south 54.

The problem, though, as the mister and I discovered early Friday morning, is that west Tennessee confuses the poop out of Google maps.

The directions we printed said to turn right onto highway 54/Main Street about 20 minutes south of Martin. Well, there is a Main Street intersection in Greenfield (about 20 minutes south of Martin). This intersection also has a sign indicating that highway 54 north branches to the left.

So, logically, to follow 54 south we turned right at this intersection. We drove around a school and through some dead-end residential areas for ten minutes before deciding this was definitely not a highway and was not going to take us to Trenton.

So we take option number two: continue south of Greenfield on highway 45. We got to Bradford and found a sign that said 54, with no directions or other instructions to help the wayward traveler. We turn right, hoping this is the right highway. Again, ten minutes of wandering and no luck.

By this point, 8 a.m. (our appointment time in Trenton) is getting closer and we’re no closer to figuring out how to get there. I’ve called several local friends for directions and none of them answer. I’ve asked the mister to call the animal clinic we’re meeting with to ask for directions, but of course he can figure it out himself.

We eventually found a sign pointing to Trenton (on a different highway) and at least end up in the right city. Another 20 minutes of wandering through and around Trenton puts us on yet another highway. . . a highway that leads straight back to Martin.

. . . that we could have taken in the first place.

Of course.

I’ve always considered the mister a practical person, but his true “man-side” came out when I asked him repeatedly to call for directions and he continued to insist that he could figure it out. All the while saying how lost we were and asking why I didn’t bring my GPS.

And of course, when he finally does call, we spot the building just as the receptionist answers. Somehow proving his point that we did not need directions. Even though we found the building completely by accident. And we were ten minutes late.

But thankfully, the veterinarians we were meeting were even later than us, so our panic turned out to be for nothing. But still, why is it such a big deal to ask for directions????

(I must add as a final note that the mister’s first question upon our arrival was, “There’s going to be a blog about this, isn’t there?”)