The second weekend of househunting, I realized I wasn't in Kansas (DC or Chicago) anymore. Walking downstairs to check out the basement of a house that didn't suit us but that didn't have any other obvious problems, I asked, "Any disclosures?"
"No," the seller's agent replied. "It's in perfect shape!" She flipped on the light, and I found myself face to face with a giant rock fully occupying one third of the basement. Apparently, I needed to add "no basement boulders" to my list of non-negotiables--turns out they're not uncommon in old New England cellars, but I'm reluctant to take out a mortgage to house one.
I don't even know what week of househunting we're currently on. A couple days ago, I was engaged in my usual
The search continues. Our house is out there. I hear there's a lovely one that recently came down in price, and it even has a karate studio on the premises.