Patrick and I keep checking Craigslist obsessively, trying to find someplace new to live, or a glimmer of hope that we'll find a rental within our price-range that will allow two over-25-pound herding dogs. So far, no such luck; rentals are either apartments that don't allow dogs, rental houses that are too expensive for us but that will allow dogs, or places the same size as the place we're in now (500 sq feet, down from our 1500 sq foot house, to give you a picture of the......cozy situation we're in. Read: cramped. as. hell.) or things that are just right except for one problem (the rental on a working horse farm! ...an hour away).
Which leads us to, once again, looking at buying. This isn't exactly ideal, since the nice thing about renting cheaply for now in our cramped little Hobbit hole is that it's, well, cheap, which means we can afford the medical stuff on the table.
Enter: the adorable off-the-grid farm with a guesthouse and a room lined with bookshelves that we stumbled across, for sale. We drove up to it the other day and wandered around, jaws on the tall-grass-field-lawn, wondering why the hell is was so cheap. We called the realtor and discovered that a) it was run on solar-power, but the panels were taken away, so there's currently no...current and b) when the land was divided up to sell once the old owner died, the parcel the house is on was cut off from its well. So, no power, no water. Of course, the well may work perfectly fine, and the owners of the property with the well may be amenable to the new owners using it and basically the point of this ramble is OH MY GOD THE PERFECT LITTLE FARM FOR SO, SO LITTLE MONEY AND YET UGH BUYING AND UMMMMM AM I OKAY WITH USING AN OUTHOUSE FOR A WHILE?
To a certain extent, I feel like sometimes I'm sad about the leaving of our first home, but then I realize, I'm really not, because the home we bought was never the home we envisioned it would be; I always imagined little feet on the wooden stairs coming down on Christmas (so cliche, I know) and that never happened, and no matter how many times I think of that house, it will never be something in that house. So I'm leery of pouring those hopes into a little wee farm, too, thinking of raising a kid with baby goats (a kid with kids) and whatnot, because those dreams too might be attached to a little wee farm that never will be, just like the house that never was.
So I'm trying to stay grounded, this time. But oh. That farm.
Oh my god, that farm! So, not only were the bookshelves in all one main front room, but a tour unearthed the fact that the WHOLE. HOUSE. is covered in shelves. Even in the strangest places. There's no electricity, and a new well would be needed, and oh my gosh it was a fixer-upper of such massive proportions, I'm thrilled we looked at it just so we could set it to rest in our minds. Good. Lord. Almighty.
Also, it had an end of times bunker.
So thus ends the tale of the little farm that never was. With hilarity. Which, thank goodness. Now we'll always have that farm to fall back on for property comparisons. "Does it have running water, or is it like that farm we once looked at?" we'll ask each other. "Does it have a bunker, like that farm we once looked at?" "Does it have a kitchen that's floor-to-ceiling open-wall rough-hewn cabinets like that farm we looked at?" "Does it have heat, or is it like that farm we once looked at?"