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I’ll go first…
I’m afraid I haven’t been completely honest…again.
While writing about our trip to Gouda and the house hunting process, we were already waiting for word on an offer we made. As I was explaining the process of finding a place to you, we had already moved onto the crossing of fingers and toes for “the one.”
That kind of hiding my hopes isn’t a new thing for me, and if you’ll indulge me, I’m trying to understand why.
First the good news: our new place is a stone’s throw from the center of Den Haag and fits our needs perfectly with enough space for two adults to work in the home and for two cats to roam (preferably out of earshot between the hours of 23:00 and 7:00)—and it even has the elusive outdoor space!
We scored a showing the same day we inquired and walked away from it to the nearest “place where they serve coffee” (which is not the same thing as a “coffeeshop” in the Netherlands 😉) where we sat and compiled our letter of interest, tax returns, pictures of the cats, and anything else we thought would sweeten the deal.
A couple of days later, we were on FaceTime with my niblings when I saw the email come through to say the owner had accepted our offer. We finished the call without my saying a word about it because something in my mind said I “shouldn’t jinx it.”
Oooo-weee, what’s up with that?
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