Hello again, my friends.
Sorry I didn't write the last couple of nights. I could barely stay awake on Tuesday for some reason. Monday I turned in late and did not bother to write you a post. Please forgive me.
Obviously, we have not gone to the cottage yet. Still here in the big old city.
We have expressed some interest in leaving the city and moving to, say, the Valley in the coming little while, but reality is making me feel otherwise. The housing market is not as hot as it was, but it is still on fire, and the embers are scaring us away. Properties that seemed to be within our price range are "collecting offers" from people, meaning they will almost certainly go over the asking price. It is an aspect of the market that I find particularly distasteful. We want no truck with it.
This place we saw online had some intriguing aspects to it, but there were some questions, so we contacted our realtor to set up a viewing for us. But as soon as we heard they were collecting offers, we walked.
And I fear we will sit on the sidelines for a while.
I am trying to be diplomatic and philosophical about this. We have a roof over our heads. I have spent quite a bit of money on the place in the last year to improve the place, so maybe we should stick around for a while to enjoy those improvements. There are other things we can do to improve the place that will not cost much money, so why not do those things? You know. Incremental improvements to make the place better and therefore more saleable.
I have been reading about the housing market in Nova Scotia, and throughout other parts of the country. The problem with housing is likely throughout most of the globe. Too many people chasing too little housing stock, driving up prices and pushing many people out of the market, so they are stuck where they are. Sometimes where they are is a rental situation, and rents are going up into the ionosphere.
And I have been hearing more and more unpleasant things about the Yarmouth area of the province. A friend told me this evening that the area is rife with crime and even human trafficking. I was trying to get my friend to tell me more, perhaps drop a name or two, to justify perhaps an article for the magazine. But my friend did not budge. I will keep trying.
All the above is making me think it is time for us to sit back and watch the market implode. That may not happen, but it is utterly unsustainable, what the market is growing through. When things calm down somewhat, we will think long and hard about just where we want to live. Maybe Halifax is where we were "meant" to be.
Let's finish the blog post on a happier note. I have been going through old boxes of stuff from the Valley house, these past few days. Found some old photo albums and some loose photos as well. It has been a while since I posted this photo of me when I was 11, in late 1975, when I was in Grade Six at Port Williams Elementary School. So, here it goes:
A cute little devil, aren't I? The cuteness never stops, though. Here I am four and a half years earlier, when I was seven. Grade One. Same school:
A studious and handsome kid, was I? Where did things go off the rails?
On that happier note, I call it a night. You all have a good evening. I think we will still be here on Thursday, so I will write you then.
Ciao for now.
Bevboy
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