April 28 was the first time we went house hunting.
It is now September 10, and we still haven't found a house. We've seen at least 100 houses. At least.
That's not to say we haven't found anything we like. There have been two houses we've tried to buy. The first was a short sale, and the agent didn't disclose there was an existing offer until we called to make ours. The second was a bank-owned home, and, again, the agent didn't disclose there were multiple existing offers until after we had seen the home and fallen in love with it.
Our three-month lease, which we originally thought would be too long, expires at the end of the month, and we're not sure where we're living after that.
All of our stuff is in boxes in the garages of various relatives. I can't bake anything in the oven, because all that stuff is packed. Pizza cutter? Packed. Winter jackets that we'll be needing soon? Packed.
I'm frustrated.
