So, well, Friday I was scheduled to look at three places, and I did. It was the first one I had my eye on. It was gorgeous. Really, it was pretty much everything I was looking for in terms of amenities, location, price. The other two places didn't impress me but the first one did. So, Saturday, we went back and had a second look. I was still impressed. That afternoon, we made an offer.
Yesterday, I was out at a pub with P-Doug waiting for the call from my rep that they'd counter-offered. They came right up the middle of the $5000 difference. So, P-Doug and I paid the bill, took off across town, and we met up with my rep at a Tim Horton's, where I signed. Yeah, I signed a home purchase sitting in a Tim Horton's. How Canadian can you get?
Today I've begged off work so I can go to the bank, open my RRSP, and transfer money out for the deposit cheque and, eventually, the down payment. It all happens at the end of May, which has a nice air of breathing room about it. Anything shorter than about a month would have seemed too abrupt, I admit.
It isn't real to me yet. It hasn't actually sunk in that I won't be living here next summer, but in that nice place I visited a couple of times last week. I can't explain it. I'm not nervous or excited or depressed, or much of anything. I feel good that I've taken this step, but it doesn't seem as momentous as I always imagined it. It just feels like something I needed to do that I put off for years, but finally tackled. Maybe that'll change... but you know what, I hope not. I hope it always feels like this: a simple, mature thing I did that thousands and thousands of other people do every day, that was a responsible thing to do. I don't want to be awed or frightened or cowed or ecstatic about it, because I think they're all overreactions. I like that this feels normal.