Since moving to the mountains of Georgia, we have met people from all over the east coast. They say this area is changing and fast. People arrive from Florida looking for four seasons. People from the north arrive because it is so similar to the north but without the long, frozen winters. The mountains are beautiful with plenty of walking trails and waterfalls to explore. The lakes are great for boating, swimming, and fishing. The autumn is packed with tourist looking for apples, and a change from beaches, the heat, and bugs. Besides our one bad experience with buying a house, we like the area a bunch.
New developments pop on every hill line, and the housing market turns over regularly. Barb, our real estate agent, assures us that building permits are now required, and the builders abide by the rules. Surveyors are in high demand. We trust her. She’s saved us before.
Barb’s link to another house arrived via email, I opened it and marveled at how nice the home presented. A prow front house on a few acres. It looked like what we wanted. We met the agent in the parking lot of Ingles, our now favorite grocery store and then drove for a half hour. Hmm…kind of far, but we did get lost for a bit. We entered the house through the great room door, and Bill’s shoulders relax, “Yeah, this is just what I wanted.”
I think, what happened to the living room. There isn’t enough room for furniture. I slowly meander around. Peeking into the man cave, from the bottom of the stairway I wondered how the trick photography worked. In real life, I could sit on the chair, and my feet would almost rest on the wood stove. That’s not what the photo showed. It was impossible that they were the same rooms. Every doorway I went through, resulted in the same sinking feeling. I was duped. I wanted to like this house but couldn’t. The beautiful water feature in the garden couldn’t overcome the home’s drawbacks. Bill couldn’t say enough good about the place. Huh!
House hunting can be fun, tiring and filled with arguments between your partner and yourself. When the home may be the last house that you’ll ever buy, having one person love a house is challenging but getting both people to agree is a real trip.
We finally found a house I truly loved. It wasn’t a log cabin and had no rustic features. Hurrah. I was tired of that look. This home’s view was great. We could see to the south for 60 miles…almost to Atlanta. The house was 2400 feet above sea level and at the very top of Walnut Mountain. The rooms were as large as they appeared on the internet. Everything was perfect.
We prepared an offer and then the fighting started. Before the agent prepared the purchase and sale, she forwarded all the paperwork that she could dig up to give us a good idea of what living in the house would mean to us. I didn’t care about paperwork; I found my house. Bill didn’t agree.
While I’m in the shower three rooms away, I hear Bill reading something out loud. Then he starts shouting. Apparently, I had to listen even when I had water rushing over my head. The 30-page HOA rules wouldn’t do. If he wanted a garden, it would have to be approved. If he wanted to change anything in the house, then we have to go to the Architectural Comm. If he wanted to take down a tree, don’t think of it. Ask first. Bill is livid. I didn’t care. I found my house. I was sure he was mad just because he wanted the prow front house. I lived on a boat for eight years. Now I get to choose where we live. Right? Then it just got worse. The septic. It isn’t just a septic. It has pumps. It doesn’t have a tank. It has a huge piped field through most of the side property with tubes that sit 6 inches under the surface, and these drain the main septic tank with help from the pumps. Well, that is different but it must be okay, or they wouldn’t allow it. I don’t need to go into the side yard. This is the house I want. No way says, Bill. If we loose power we can’t flush the toilet.
Now, I’m not happy, and either is Bill.