6:55 am - Thursday, February 22 2018
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Ready for our first house.

Although I’m still suffering from camera-loss I’ve decided to move on.  For now.  Be thankful.

As I sit here eating my buttered crackers and drinking my too hot tea, I’m feeling a bit reflective.  No, not reflective… I think… I think I’m feeling a bit… grown-up.  Yes, that’s it.  Grown-up.  And despite my fears, it’s actually not so bad.  You see, Adam and I are trying to buy our first house.  Yes, trying.  We make enough money.  We saved up for a deposit.  We debated the merits of buying in Canada versus buying in Holland.  We found a place in Canada that we like.  We approached various banks for a mortgage.  And we have chased our tails for the past three weeks while the banks decide how many flaming hoops we have to jump through in order to obtain said mortgage. *sigh*

What’s the deal?  To begin with, as I said, we found a place in Canada.  A nice little condo apartment in my favorite area of Halifax.  Close to the water, close to downtown, easyish access to highways, only needs a few upgrades.  Perfect.  The problem is that although I am a Canadian citizen, because we don’t *live* in Canada, the banks have either outright refused us or have made it so cost prohibitive (i.e., requiring an INSANE deposit that means we might as well wait another few years and buy the thing outright) that it’s really unworkable.  No surprise, the Dutch banks are also being arsey about giving us a mortgage for a Canadian property.  Dammit.  I stick my tongue out at you, bank monkeys.  I’m disappointed because I would love to have a place in my home town.  We couldn’t live in it right away- we would stay here in Den Haag and rent it out.  But it would be so great just to have it there.  For when we are ready to move to Canada.  But NO.  Not gonna happen.

Adam got so fed up with the banks two nights ago that he flew into a rage (rage for Adam = harder typing on his beloved Mac keyboard) and looked online to find an apartment for sale in the building we live in.  He found one within seconds.  “Right. Let’s buy that one,” he said.  And I, equally full of rage (although mine tends to involve more gnashing, cursing, and tears), said FINE.  FINE!  Good!  Good then!  Right…  Right then…  And Adam blinked.  And I blinked.  And Adam smiled.  And I smiled.  Then we giggled.  Why not?  It’s a great apartment, in the centre of town, on a central tram line, in a great location, we know the building, we know the caretaker, we can afford it, and our Dutch bank *should* give us a mortgage for a Dutch property.  Why not indeed?

We have an appointment to view the place on Monday and a meeting with the bank next Thursday.  I dare them to refuse us, what with Adam’s jabbing fingers and my gnashing teeth.  Look out!  Ok, we may have to wait a few years for the Halifax house, but in the meantime we can get on the housing stilts ladder now and buy a place in Den Haag.

Why the hell not?


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