Last night, someone (namely my husband) had the great idea to drive around Boerne and look for a neighborhood my parents had been telling us about. I only agreed because my mouth was full of frozen yogurt, and I wasn't about to complain about the gas we would be wasting driving around since apparently I am a "fun sucker".
His words, not mine. Apparently it's a mortal sin to be concerned about the price of gas now days.
So it's 8:00 at night, and we're driving around Boerne in circles looking for Champion High School (because that's the only part of the location we remembered my parents saying). The problem with finding said high school, however, is that neither our iPhones nor our GPS could locate it.
So we're driving around in circles, Josh is talking about how he knows we're just about to find it, and all I can think about is how I should have never asked for frozen yogurt in the first place. Because if there's one thing I hate more than wasting gas, it's driving around aimlessly looking for a specific location.
Eventually I busted out the Google map on my phone and found the high school. {God bless Google. It is superior in all location-finding aspects.}
We finally found the neighborhood, and as we drove in, my heart decided to stop beating. I was expecting a little run-down neighborhood full of cute, but character-filled houses because my parents said it looked like a neighborhood we could afford for our first home buying experience.
Uh, no.
My parents, apparently, have more faith in our financial situation than we do. Because this neighborhood was Alexis' house heaven (which translates into "we couldn't touch it for, like, 10 years").
I'm serious. I had found my dream neighborhood.
As we drove around looking at the new, cottage-esque houses, I tried to brainstorm ways to save thousands upon thousands of dollars for a down payment within a year. All I could come up with was selling our dogs on the Black Market, trying to figure out how to work that complicated website called Elance, writing stellar article content that would entice magazines to publish me, or winning the lottery.
They are all very far-fetched goals.
In an effort to torture ourselves even more, we kept driving around and drooling over said dream houses. Josh kept talking about how we could raise our kids here and look! There's an elementary school! You love elementary schools! {Yes, I do. If I didn't think I'd go crazy being around kids all day, I would totally be a teacher. Just so I could spend my days basking in all the goodness that is elementary schools.}
We eventually stopped our neighborhood-stalking efforts and drove home. On the way home, I declared that I was totally ok with living in an apartment for the next ten years if we could buy one of those houses as our first home. Because once I've found what I want, you know I will never settle for anything less.
Josh agreed, and I sentenced myself to ten years of apartment living. Just to torture myself even more, I went online to look at the houses and get an idea of their prices.
What I found made me so excited that I jumped up & down and did the happy dance. Because - in my little dream neighborhood - I found some houses that we could afford when it's time to buy a house.
I guess I should thank my parents for telling me about that neighborhood after all.
{If the Mr. thought I was frugal when it came to gas now, he has no idea what's about to hit him.}
