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elanamatic: homie.
So uh here I sit, slightly high off the biggest splurge of my young life to date, intoxicated by the bottle of red we all swallowed post signing, and totally in a daze. I own a house. We own a house. A sweet little townhouse plop in the middle of the city. Spitting distance from Kensington Market, my favourite weekend hangout. Close to a subway. Close to everything. Am I awake or dreaming?
It's pretty close to perfect. Three bedrooms. Three bathrooms (!). Only nine years old. Beautiful hardwood floors, new appliances and cute little deck for beers and BBQs. We will be having many a dinner party. You will be invited.
After seeing ten houses with our agent on Saturday, I was ready to deck her smack in the face. We met my father-in-law for dim sum and he pointed us in the direction of an ad he had seen for a townhouse that was for sale by owner.
We had bid on another unit in that complex but lost out in a bidding war. This time there were no agents. There were no other offers. Just two incredibly nice, warm people who had bought it from the owner three years ago. Instant Karma I suppose. The whole deal was fairly straightforward and pleasant, the exact way the biggest purchase of your life should flow.
Right, so the dude and I are about to continue the partying with a little celebration of our own so more details soon...
xox!
moi.
