I was hoping by this time this week I would have exciting news to share, but unfortunately it wasn’t in the cards this time. We found a house. My perfect house. It was built in the 1830s, a classic colonial in a cute little neighborhood that reminded me of New England. White clapboard, black shutters, tomato red front door–it even had peonies planted in the huge backyard!
We played real estate cat and mouse and were ecstatic when we finally met in the middle and went under contract. I had floor plans drawn, light fixtures selected, and convinced myself it was okay to buy a few rolls of discontinued wallpaper I found for a steal. Here’s the deal, that saying,: “don’t count your chickens before they hatch?” It might as well be: “don’t buy wallpaper before you own the walls.”
Last week we brought in an amazing inspector who specializes in historic homes and it wasn’t pretty. Although you’d never know it from outward appearance, the house had more issues than Lindsay Lohan, and at least with Lindsay it’s pretty transparent that she’s a hot mess! Needless to say, things fell apart almost as quickly as I’m told one of the support beams did.
Having my dreams of wallpaper and twin green velvet English roll arm sofas dashed left me pretty heartbroken; but thankfully I quickly realized how first world our problems were and ended the pity party of one. We’re taking a break from the house hunt until after the wedding, which has gotten my wheels spinning about maybe making some changes around our current apartment to get my fix….
Garrett’s out of town this weekend, and who knows, maybe by the time he gets back the walls will have been painted that shade of lavender I’ve been talking about.
P.S Aerin Lauder’s East Hampton home would be my ultimate get out of jail free card if I were to have an affair with a house. Greek Revival perfection.