in the beginning...

Just over one and a half years ago (Friday, June 19, 2009, if I must be specific), my husband and I closed on our first house.  It was ours and we were in love with it. 

our house the day of the home inspection

It was so much more than our wildest dreams imagined was possible for us (many thanks to the crash of the housing market) and in SO MANY WAYS, this house was meant to be ours.

Seriously.  You want proof?


My husband and I moved from Cleveland to the metro Detroit area.  We began looking for houses for two years before we finally closed on this house.  Every single time that we made an offer, or were really interested in a house, something happened and to make it fall through.  Not a week before our offer was accepted on this house, we had our hearts ripped out of our chests on a short-sale house that accepted our offer.   We put an offer on this house, they counter, we accept and close.  They were the original owners (The house was built in 1963.  No matter how you slice it, even in the horrible housing market, they made some money)

My dad grew up in our town.  This would be a small, insignificant fact except that I moved around A LOT growing up, so the simple fact that I own a home in a place with some family history is just noteworthy.  Especially since the family that owned our home, used to live across the street from my dad as a child.  When they moved away, it was because they moved into this house.  Our house.  Tell me when that happens...?!

Is it a perfect house?  Absolutely not.  But it is perfect for us, and in the grand scheme of things, this house truly surpassed all of the other houses we thought we loved until we found it.



the rear of the house (from the home inspection)

I love my house!