When we found out that Emily was pregnant, in August 2006, we ramped up our housing search. We had been living in a not-too-tiny-but-still-small 2 bedroom, 1 bath apartment ever since we moved to the area the year before, and we wanted a real honest to god house for our new baby, and our growing family. Somewhere in a nice suburban neighborhood (because we are boring like that).

We placed an offer on a house on a nice street. House was sold already. Made an offer on the house next door with a similar floor plan (the first house was a 3/2, this was a pre-addition 3/1 that could be turned into one very like the other). We got it. Hooray!! We were homeowners, in Mountain View California! Still, it was a 3/1, and tiny, so we knew that we'd have to build an addition on it. It was priced a lot lower than the remodeled one next door, which we could also afford, so we had some extra cash lying around for a remodel.

But when we spoke to a consultant about the job we were looking to have done he estimated that it would cost about twice the amount that we had to spend. Grrrr.

Not knowing what else to do, we asked for, and received, help from two family members who are in the house-building business. One was going to draw up the plans by the beginning of 2007; the other was going to come out with a crew and build the addition before Erin was born in April of 2007. And then we'd have our nice family home in our nice suburban neighborhood.

The plans were never finished; but a crew came out anyway and some work was done. Foundation, framing, floors. No roof. No walls. No kitchen remodel. No bathroom. But still, something was done. By June.

Yeah. By the time June rolled around Erin was a month and a half old and we were still in our apartment. We were desperate to move in, but we were also out of money and couldn't do any more building anyway because....the plans still weren't done. That means that all the work we had done was done without permits or inspections and made it very difficult to do any more work.

Fast forward to November 2007. Work frozen on house since June. House sits empty, unlivable. Erin still sleeps with us because we can't bring ourselves to buy a crib to have in the shitty-ass apartment we live in. Actually, the apartment wasn't so bad, it just felt small. But we were also paying rent and a mortgage, now 8 months longer than we had originally anticipated. What could we do? We tossed around ideas, and nothing really seemed to work. Sell it? Can't, we have too much invested in it, it looks like shit, and we'd probably lose money. Finish it? Can't. We have no plans, and no money until the tax return of 2008. Burn it?

Burning it seemed like the best option at the time.

But instead we did nothing. We tried to put some more pressure on the man with the plans, but he was up to his neck in his own shit and I just never felt good about laying the hammer down. You can't fire family.

You can't fire family.

You can't fire family.

February 2008. Why can't we fire family? We're still in our little apartment. We need the plans done to at least make it possible for a new contractor to come in and finish the house for us, whenever we have the money to do it. So why not fire family? What the hell is our deal? Of course you can fire family, especially if they're too guilt-ridden to actually finish the project, or any project, in the first place. It's one thing to ask family for help; it's another thing to permit yourself to follow them into a deep hole because you can't hurt their pride by taking their favor-for-us away from them.

March 1st 2008. Fired family. Asked a structural engineer friend to draw up some plans.

March 7th, 2008. Had a lovely date night with Emily. Talked about the house. New plans are going to cost a lot, especially if they are stamped by an engineer (which they almost certainly will have to be because the construction that's been done to date has been done without permits, so without the City engineer's inspection). After the plans, there's still the actual construction costs, which will burn through our tax return like arson through a half-finished house.

Why do we want to finish it? Why not sell it? At this point, we realized the only thing that was holding us to the house was that we hated the idea of failing at something. But we were going to bury ourselves finishing a house that by now we couldn't stand to think about, so that we could move in and be miserable for probably only a couple of years. Once I'm finished my PhD I have to look for a job, which means, probably, moving. 2-3 years. In a house we hate. Why oh why oh why the fuck would we pay for that privilege???

Last night. "Let's sell the house." It was a fucking revelation. It is more important to us now to be in a nice place (rent a house for a couple of years) for our daughter and our next kid than it is to OWN the house we live in for the next two or three years.

We began our ordeal thinking that we needed to buy the great family house; and then we needed to build the great family house; and then we couldn't risk losing money, and it was too embarassing to give up, so we had to finish the great family house.

Now it doesn't make any sense whatsoever to try to finish the house. Even if it means we lose every dime we sunk in to remodel it. The emotional cost is just too damned high. It's cost us relationships with family members, and to get those back we need to get past this freaking nightmare.

I haven't written much about the house in the past almost year because it's just been that depressing to think about.

After our date last night Emily and I slept very, very well.

Sell the house.