I am at the point where I’m certain Kathy’s tired of me, tired of driving around Nashville, and tired of the prospect of walking into houses that are so depressing you about want to cry.
There are roughly three kinds of houses in my price range–Right, but maybe not my thing; in needs of fixes I can’t do but still okay; and “people live like this?” The ratio appears to be about 10, 20, 70.
We’ve walked into houses that smelled so bad we thought we would throw up before we got out of them. We’ve been in houses with so much mold they made Kathy sick. We’ve been in houses with kitchens in such bad shape they shake your faith in how the world works.
I think the most insidious part about this whole thing is that, after a while, you start to think “Hmm, well, maybe this is all I deserve.” Not ‘all I can afford’ but ‘Okay, I’m just going to take the next non-shitty thing that comes along, even if I’m not in love with it, because wow, there’s some scary-ass sucky stuff out there.”
So, I don’t know. It’s tough.