So I shared the good news last week: We got an offer on our Huntsville home after 52 days on the market. The days that followed were hectic. The last 24 hours were hell.
After someone made an offer on our house and we accepted, the reality set in that we needed to buy another house. Quickly. The closing was a month away.
So we searched all weekend and narrowed our choices down to two. We needed such a specific set-up. There had to be a master bedroom on the main floor to accommodate my aging, but spirited mother, and ample bedroom space upstairs for my husband and me, along with our high-energy daughters, Serina, 7, and Sophia, almost 5.
The first option was gorgeous, brand-new construction in Owens Cross Roads, “over the mountain,” where we never thought we’d go. But everything was so new and shiny! Glistening hardwoods, wrought-iron railings, jetted tubs, granite counter tops, dreamy stainless steel appliances, and a community pool five doors down.
The new construction was listed at $259,000 compared to the older house, which was listed at $279,000. The price per square foot was significantly less in the older home, though: $80 versus $94. (If you live in a bigger city, please take note: a lower cost of living is just one of Huntsville’s many charms!)
So we struggled with the decision. New or old. The listing agent at the new development enticed us further: $15,000 in free upgrades!
In the end, the value of a larger house that also happened to have granite counter tops, stainless steel appliances (minus the fridge) and beautiful, original hardwoods won over. Plus, we enjoy the character of south Huntsville and our proximity to the Southeast Family YMCA and “our” Publix store.
But we wanted to get the price down closer to the area’s comps. Hence a round of negotiations followed our original offer, which was made at 2 p.m. Monday. The counter to the counter was verbally accepted just after 2 p.m. Tuesday.
Twenty-four hours of anxiety. Stress. Uncertainty.
But what a small price to pay for the long-term gift: An opportunity for our daughters and their last surviving grandparent, their “Mormor,” to develop a deeper relationship that wouldn’t be possible if she stayed in Minneapolis.