People keep asking me if I'm going to leave Asheville and so far the answer is only if I'm forced out. Which is what seemed to be happening and if you enter that vortex of despair which is the house rental part of the Iwanna Castles & Coves section, as I have for the last 2 weeks (Why don't people just come out and say Woodfin? Why do they say North instead and then hem and haw when they are, in fact, in the center of what passes for red hot swingin' Woodfin?) then you'll be right there with me. Well. I went to see a real estate person and a mortgage broker last week. I was expecting them to say "NO! Are you mad? You cannot buy a house!" and I figured I would be lucky if they didn't say "Begone!" and start waving incense and the Bible around. I hate it when that happens. But, as it turns out, my credit is not anywhere near as bad as I thought it was - my earnest, haphazard efforts to sort of repair it when I'm thinking about it have apparently paid off. So they said, instead, "Felicity, do YOU want to buy a house?" kind of in the manner of Bob Barker and so of course I kind of jumped around in my nifty chair (it's a very shiny office) and said, "Yes! Yes, I do want to buy a
Then they told me how much money I could spend on a house and unfortunately it happens to be the equivalent of your newer garden shed - see previous posts re: gentrification, evils thereof. And the first house I went to see, which came complete with Dale Earnhardt shrine in the kitchen, snarling Rottweiler in the backyard and bathroom in imminent danger of complete collapse, reinforced my belief that this whole idea was impossible and crazy to boot.
Today, however, I saw a house that I don't want to jinx by saying anything about (dude. There was a black cat sitting on the roof when I drove up.) because as we all know these things seldom work out. However. If it does? I'll be in Asheville for a while, I think.