Our hot zone keeps expanding to the far fringes of our desired forwarding address of Prince Edward County. But we keep coming back to it like boomerangs. Our homing instinct is obviously deep in the magma of the County. We want to be a part of the thumping heart of it all. We are as flexible as a Rio gymnast.
Yes, we want waterfront and trance-like sunsets. We want privacy, no neighbours, a few willow trees and a dock to tie up a canoe to. We want an open concept floor plan, vaulted ceilings and some shiplap to whitewash. Meaning, we chose the perfect time to sell, but the absolute worst time to buy. One farmhouse simply needed some fun house mirrors to top it off for a free vertigo experience. Or, the Moira River house with neighbours who owned pet pigs.
Or, the Thompson Point eye-roller with neighbours who have created a bespoke outdoor museum of tarped crap. Really, we are open to everything! The biggest heartbreakers have set the bar impossibly high. Or, the red brick Victorian on Yorkβso impeccably finished and designedβbut in the wrong neighbourhood. Yes, we know, we know. That magical house is out thereβwe are patient people. Oddly, we keep hearing stories about friends who only looked at ONE house and that was it.
Our friend Michelle in Qualicum Beach, BC did the same thingβshe saw the cabin online and had a friend in Victoria go scout it out for her. One house in Ayr. Though, their realtor made them look at one other farm before they put in an offer. A trip to Prince Edward County guarantees two things: an opportunity to restore the senses and wine cellar.
Last Saturday, Kim and I thought we had locked in on our dream house. We were squirmy with anticipation and spontaneity. I had to jet to the spa for an afternoon shift and we had to make rapid decisions all within a ten minute time span. I phoned the realtor, threw my hair gel, camera and power t-shirt on the bed for packing and left Kim to sort out the other messy details of finding a hotel on a long weekend.
