So, if you remember, it was August and we were attempting to sell our condo in South Florida. We were hoping to move to Chesapeake, Virginia– a town to which we had never even been– by the end of September.
As I mentioned last week, I was all stressed out over this whole process. I found it overwhelming to have our home on the market, but this just cracks me up, looking back. I’m going to be honest with you all– at the time, showings either happened when we were at work or, if we happened to be home, we’d go to Applebee’s for an appetizer and a margarita while they did the showing. Why I thought this was stressful is utterly beyond me now, but, at the time, it was anxiety-inducing.
So, I fretted about how long it would take. I knew it sometimes took months and months to sell a home.
Ours took fifteen days.
The realtor called us late one evening and said that they’d had a cash offer for very close to our asking price. Did we want to take it?
Yes. Yes, we did,
We closed on the property a month later, sometime in the September 20-somethings.
So. We had picked a date. We’d picked a town. We’d sold our home. We were banking on having jobs there once we arrived. We had even hired and scheduled movers.
But we needed a place to live.
In a town we have never even visited.
(Is anyone thinking we’re utterly insane yet? Looking back, I realize lots of people thought we were. Somehow, we just assumed it’d all be fine. Honestly, I hope our kids get a little bit of that from us. It’s not a bad personality trait, so long as you have common-sense, too.)
I went to work one day, while my husband stayed home. He worked in an non-traditional, in-store banking center and was sometimes off on weekdays. I worked in a more typical office and worked a Mon-Fri schedule.
Anyway, while I was gone, he rented an apartment.
I’m not even kidding.
I got home and he had called an apartment complex and rented a one bedroom/ one bathroom unit right in the heart of Chesapeake. We got a six-month lease, figuring we could look for a more permanent home during that time, once we knew more about the various neighborhoods.
So now I knew for sure…
This was happening.
The rest of this story can be found here:
Part 1: Itchy Feet
Part 2: Looking Northward
Part 3: Picking a Town
Part 4: The Job “Search”
Part 5: Selling Our First Home (at 25)