I woke up almost with the headache that sent me searching for the Panadol last night.
I almost felt like vomiting upon remembering what day it was too.
That’s the way you feel when you have the burden of a life-changing decision on your shoulders. I was to be at an auction, on my own, very possibly bidding for a house.
I lie. I had baby girl clutching my leg 5 hours after I woke up, as the auctioneer started his introduction.
And you know what? I went with my plan. I let the bidders outbid themselves. I waited until the property went on the market, and with the pros and cons of obtaining the property firmly in mind, I let the others dictate the end of the story.
We didn’t get it. I didn’t even call out. It went too far. But I’m happy.
It would have been an amazing opportunity. Don’t get me wrong: this house has REAL potential. Endless possibilities. But we became aware of another house with much less work and money required to ‘build it up,’ days before the auction, and realised that maybe, just maybe, this house wasn’t the one for us.
It wasn’t. A door has closed, and I know with certainty that something much better is waiting for us.
It’s hard to get excited about something, yet prepare yourself for disappointment at the same time. I somehow did both today, and I’m feeling pretty good about it.
I asked baby girl an important question before the commencement of the auction. I said “baby girl, which house do you want – the one with the rabbits (the auction one) or the one with the stairs (the one we had just became aware of days earlier)?”
She pointed up and made a ‘stairs’ sounding word.
I smiled. “Okay then.”