Just Buy It

My bro-in-law, Greg, and I do not share the same shopping style. Word has it that Greg spent the better part of four Saturdays researching and deciding on which tires to buy to replace his aging treads. I, on the other hand, have purchased two new vehicles by phone. Greg does not understand this.

Hence, I would never reveal to Greg that, essentially, I purchased my home by phone. Actually (a word we love in the Great Northwest), I had seen the domicile. Bud (previous owner), had a party to which I was a friend-of-a-friend "guest." That is, I crashed. Bud is famous (among those who know him) for his hospitality. Translation: the booze was flowing. Not to mention the other stuff.

I remember congregating in the not yet finished second floor of the bungalow -- it would soon be a nice "master suite" - but at the time, promising drywall and a punched out area for a bathroom were the major attractions. It also served as a delightful place to appreciate doobies and gossip about the a-hole HAAAAVAAARD guy who was with one of our (then) fabulously attractive single gUrlfriends. (she did much better later... future blog topic, perhaps).

Fast forward... one day, chatting with my daught... she mentions Bud is selling his place. Bud's place, by the way, is about a two minute walk from daught's home. "No kidding," I say, "I should buy Bud's house." In my mind at that moment, was not the soon-to-be-finished master suite, or the proximity to the daught, or much of anything else. It was the hot tub. The SPA, if you will. The under-the-stars-in-your-altogether-glass-of-wine-music-blaring-best-relaxation-with-or-without-company hot tub. Mind you, I'd had plenty of hot tub experience. My friend, Debbie, and I had solved most of the mysteries of the world in her hot tub. And those brilliant conversations were Plato to Aristotle if one considered the Boyne Mtn. hot tubbing experiences with Realjo, MB, et. al. (Remind me to 'blog' about the yellow-foot-toad some day). I digress.

So, I told daught to tell Bud I'll buy his house for $xxx (whatever it was he thought he should have). He says okay, and suggests a friend of his to list/sell my house. Said friend hooks me up with another mutual friend who's a mortgage broker, and within a few weeks everyone has bought/sold what they wanted and off we go. At this point, I really haven't SEEN my new house, but felt somewhat assured that it was pretty close to what I'd probably like.

And it was. Is.

You can often spend way too much time analyzing things. Instincts are a good thing.

So are hot tubs.