Thursday and Friday I had the worst stomach flu I’ve had in years. Two hours of broken sleep. Running on fumes. Totally wiped out.
And somehow, in the middle of that chaos, life decided to hit fast forward.
The house went live Friday.
By 3pm we had a viewing request.
For 10am the next morning.
Perfect timing? Absolutely not.
So I rallied.
I did the blitz clean. Packed up Billie and escaped to Joel’s for the weekend. Dropped Tilly at her dad’s. Tried not to think too hard about the fact strangers were about to walk through nearly twenty years of my life.
By midday the next day we had an offer.
I countered.
They accepted.
The house was under offer within 24 hours of going live.
Twenty four hours.
Madness.
Beautiful, terrifying madness.
Then came Oatlands. The house we kept coming back to. The one living quietly in the back of our minds. The one my mum desperately wanted to see.
So we went.
Me. Joel. Mum. Alan. The kids.
Walking rooms. Standing in doorways. Imagining seas futures. Measuring possibility.
We agonised over numbers for hours.
Second guessed.
Overthought.
Spreadsheeted.
Questioned everything.
Then during the viewing we made our first offer.
The vendors slept on it.
The next morning, 7:30am.
An email.
They wanted a little more.
So we sat with it.
Talked.
Panicked slightly.
Did maths approximately seventeen times.
And then we did it.
Best and final.
9am.
Accepted.
And now here I am.
House under offer.
Offer accepted.
Anxiety sky high.
Acutely aware of everything that could still go wrong.
Because life has taught me that sometimes things do.
But I’m trying.
Trying to trust.
Trying to believe in timing.
In red threads.
In all the strange twists and impossible odds that somehow brought Joel and me here in the first place.
Maybe some things are meant to find us.
So now we plan.
The next chapter.
Just us.
The kids.
Billie.
And maybe…
our forever house. 🖤