It's coming. No, really.
There will zero complaints on my part. I'm thrilled with the weather here, and don't miss Boston summers or winters one bit (and I know all too well the fleeting lie of their blink-and-you'll-miss-it fall and spring seasons).
In fact, I was looking at some houses this morning with our real estate agent (more on that in a bit) and saw gorgeous little bursts of fall foliage idyllically dotting our neighborhoods, but coastal temps in the high-80s to mid-90s are roaring back like overpriced colored denim, so don't be fooled — prepare yourselves for the worst!
I've been on the hunt for replacement flats since my gold ones from J. Crew died (I'm still annoyed that they only made it through one spring/summer season), and I got so frustrated with the search and how boring and expensive everything seemed that I just broke down and got a pair of classics that go with pretty much everything: Cons!
Easy. Effortless. Super chill.
I don't think I've owned a pair of these since junior high (and they were pink high-tops with teddy bear shoelaces). Can't be mad at a shoe that can take you from 1992-2016 without skipping a beat!
We need to talk.
Suffice it to say that for a search that started way back in April and is far from over as we head into October, there's been substantial heartbreak and even more fatigue 'round these parts. We found out we lost another house late Wednesday night and only after a really long bubble bath, one barre class, a two-mile run and several hours in the kitchen making paella from scratch did I finally start to feel like I was peeling myself up off the floor.
And look, I'm not complaining — we had no idea how bad it'd get when we left, and I know how fortunate we are to even return to the Bay Area after how much things have changed in what feels like four short years — but eventually the novelty of looking at dozens of houses wears off as costs continue to climb, and I'm not at all too proud to admit that I am in no way cut out for this utterly barbarous market we're in.
But there's still nowhere else I'd rather be.
FACTS: We've seen close to 200 homes over the past six months. We're being selective but not impossible, smart without being too conservative, and flexible instead of impulsive (that's probably the biggest mistake most people make, which also happens to be the thing that gets them into a house the quickest and we've all seen what a recipe for disaster that is). We've eked out a higher budget on the one end and compromised on the "must-haves" on the other, we've assessed and reassessed our finances, our strategy, every paragraph of every offer letter we've written, we've budged on our approved zip codes (including two very long and spirited discussions about whether or not to consider Alameda or SF; both were vetoed), and with the exception of getting the kiddo settled into college and a weekend at the Russian River, we haven't skipped a single weekend of open houses since literally the day we landed at SFO.
Here's why I drop off the face of the earth periodically:
The day or so before the offer's due, you scramble to compile and review last-minute research on comps and crunch and re-crunch numbers (lots of grimacing here), decide whether or not to move ahead while relaying it all to your agent and/or broker to get the pre-approval and offer letter perfected, sign 84,000 contracts waiving any and all contingencies like a crazy person (because that's the norm here and you have ZERO shot at getting a house without doing this), then you submit on the offer date and feel like throwing up all day, then you get the news and when it's bad, you're so shellshocked that it takes appx. 24 hours to shake yourself out of a catatonic funk that is equal parts grief and impotent frustration and shattered dreams.
And that's all assuming there are no hiccups, last-minute surprises, or left-field changes to throw a wrench in things. My mama knows it's really bad when she calls me and only a tiny, strangled kitten sound comes out when she asks how I'm doing. (Hi, mom! I love you, mom!) Like I said, I may not be cut out for this, but we signed up for it and we're not going anywhere. We're home!
Wish us luck — we're headed back into the fray this weekend for a few Sunday showings. In the meantime, here's to drowning your sorrows with good friends, the return of Shondaland (FINALLY), snuggling, and being able to drive 10 minutes to the nearest beach even if it's just for an hour or two!