Little red balloon

This morning I thought I would be writing a very different blog post. I was going to tell you about finding The One. It was love at first sight on a frigid Saturday afternoon. It seemed too good to be true but slowly I let the excitement creep in. This was The One I wanted to be with, The One I wanted to lean against after a long day, The One that had everything I was looking for and that was cute and bright and cheery—like me. This was The House I wanted to buy.

My mom and dad came with me to look at it. My mom shared my excitement; my dad of course had doubts. Having him around to help me pick out Truck was easy; having him around for house shopping was not going so well. I had already let him talk me out of one place, I was determined I was not going to let him talk me out of the next one.

The house is an old 1 ½ storey with a ¾ basement. It has a bay window in the front room, which I love. I don’t know why, but I have been obsessed with this architectural feature since I was eight years old. Maybe it has something to do with watching Full House. The kitchen was all redone with new cupboards, counter-tops and a double sink. The interior had all been recently painted in soft yellows, creams, and blues. The ceilings and doorways were all framed in crown moldings.

There is a steep staircase to the master bedroom loft. They remind me of climbing the stairs to the playhouse my dad, grandpa, and uncle built for my sister and me at the cottage. The room is painted all white with a rusty brown wood floor. It has the east facing window I love so I can wake up to the morning sun. The potential downside of the room was all the low ceiling angles that could prove difficult with my high bed. A small en-suite painted light blue with white trim is to the left. There are cupboards and built in drawers everywhere.

I went back today with a measuring tape in hand. I needed to know if my bed would fit in the room given that the headboard at its highest point is 48” and the ceilings come in at about a 45 degree angle from the windows. My mom and my real estate agent were with me and we tried all sorts of different positions. It took some time, but eventually we found a way I could angle the bed so that it would fit. I was satisfied as this seemed to be the only hurdle keeping me from being able to put an offer in.

We took another look around the house to check for anything we may have missed. My agent asked if I cared to see the basement again. I shrugged and said, “sure”. There isn’t much to see down there. It’s a tiny cement space for the hot water heater and furnace. The walls only go ¾ of the way up and are surrounded by dirt. It’s not meant to be anything but utilitarian. My dad had said the day before that he was concerned that it was so cold down there. My mom said you couldn’t expect much on the coldest day of the year and if the pipes weren’t frozen on that day, what else could you worry about. Today when we took a second look though we found a puddle of water on the floor. We couldn’t figure out where it had come from. There didn’t appear to be anything leaking and obviously nothing would be melting at this time of the year. My agent frowned and the little imaginary red balloon that I had been floating around with started to deflate. I was glad my dad wasn’t there to see it or the house would have been written off for sure. I know I have to grow up and take a stand against my parents sometimes, but honestly, if something ever needs fixing or replacing I’m going to have to ask my dad for help. It would be in my best interest to have his blessing.

My agent told me she would call the realtor listing the house and inquire about the puddle. She told me to think long and hard if I wanted to make an offer on Monday and strongly suggested that if I did, I should add the condition of a home inspection.

I didn’t say much as we left the house and got into the car.

“Well, maybe it’s not meant to be,” my mom said. “Maybe that puddle is an omen.”

“Yeah, that I’m supposed to go live by the ocean,” I replied with the last bit of sense of humour I had left.

I’m tired of the cold, I’m tired of my dad being a black cloud, and I’m tired of always having to walk away. All I want is a little sunny corner of the world to call my own; all I want is a little red balloon.