Are you my house?

It's official ... I can't stand house-hunting.

And I can't help but compare our search to the book "Are you my mother?" which my mom used to read to us when my sister and I were children. It's a classic. A baby bird hatches from his egg while his mother is away, and fallen from his nest he sets out looking for her asking everyone he meets - a dog, a cow, an airplane - "Are you my mother?" It's kind of like looking for a house, really - going from house to house to house, leaving in sheer disappointment and sadness each and every time.

OK, I know that's a little dramatic.

In all seriousness, the beginning of house hunting was fun and exciting. Walking through house after house trying to imagine how we could make it our own. But that feeling faded quickly. Instead I was imagining breaking down the dry wall between the dining room and kitchen to make the kitchen bigger. Or knocking  down one side of a kitchen to create an addition and expand the kitchen into the already small backyard. We've looked in Whitefish Bay, Fox Point, Shorewood, Glendale and Wauwatosa, and in this so-called 'buyer's market' Dan and I still cannot find what we are looking for.

We did come close. Last week we saw a house in Tosa and left saying "I could picture us here." One week later - today - at our second showing, I was less than interested. I left the house thinking, "It's you, not me" to make myself feel better, but am I wrong? Am I being totally snotty and unrealistic?

At the end of the book, the baby bird does reunite with his mother. As there is always a lesson learned, he never gave up and kept on searching.

I know we'll find something. But I think I might take this week off.

Have a happy Sunday night!