When the Hardest Part Really Is the Hardest Part
When the Hardest Part Really Is the Hardest Part
We kept saying, “If we can just get the lot, the rest will be easy.” The lot—that’s the hard part. Everything else? We can build it. Change it. Make it work. We were convinced that once we got through this, it’d be smooth sailing.
But we had no idea how hard it would actually be. Or how long it would take.
We’ve had so many “almosts.” So many times we thought we found the spot, only for life to step in and say, not yet.
Our First Almost-Home in Brownstown
The plan was simple: buy a lot, build a house, and sell it. That’s what we do. It made sense. It would be fun to do together (yes, we’re weird like that—we love a good project).
But then, somewhere in the process, we looked at each other and said, wait… maybe this could be our house?
The lot had everything—plenty of space, a three-car garage, enough bedrooms. It seemed like the perfect getaway car to get us off the island while we found our real dream property (hello, 10-acre ranch with a barn).
Here is The Anastasia above—she was beautiful. The kind of home that truly shines in a subdivision. We had carefully thought through the plot plan to maximize the double lot for both the yard and the house, making the most of the space. We were so excited to see this vision come to life.
So we dove in. Mark did what he does best—got shit done. Plans, permits, pricing, the whole thing. And then… boom. HOA violation notice.
We hadn’t even had the lot two weeks.
Now, I don’t know if you know this about us, but we’re camper people. Fifth-wheel toy hauler people, to be exact. And we knew that, but we thought… surely we could bring it home and no one would blow a stack.
This subdivision? Not exactly camper-friendly. Which we assumed, but we had hoped a few days here or there wouldn’t throw anyone into a frenzy.
That getaway car we’d imagined? It was looking more like an oversold Prius than the sports car we’d pictured. Truth be told, that was Mark’s joke, not mine! Haha, but the truth remains—it no longer looked like the plan we thought it would be for us.
So while we were debating whether we could make it work, something interesting happened: someone made an offer on our lot.
And you know what? We took it.
Because by that point, we were already feeling like maybe this wasn’t our place after all.
We moved on.
And so did the lot—we sold it to a guy who built The Anastasia, which, if you ask me, is a fantastic name for a house.
The Maybee 40-Acre Dream
This next one caught us by surprise.
We were driving to pick up our newest baby girl—our Pomeranian, Boni (yes, we have two—King Zuki & Baby Boni, because well… can you have only one dog?)
Anyway, we saw a listing pop up. Nothing too exciting from the pictures, but it was 40 acres and the house technically met our needs. So we figured, why not?
By the time we got there, we had six minutes before we’d be unforgivably late to pick up Boni. So we dashed inside and—wow.
The photos did not do this place justice.
The floors? To die for. The rooms? Huge. The kitchen? Had insane potential. The basement? Stained, heated concrete floors, gym, kitchen, private space for our 18-year-old, and a freaking WALKOUT.
It was perfect.
Even the things that weren’t perfect (like the hauled water system) just felt like projects. And if there’s one thing we love, it’s a project.
We made an offer, contingent on selling one of our houses. We figured the place had been sitting for a while—it was amazing, but not everyone’s cup of tea.
But then… Christmas happened.
Our house sat through the holidays, totally silent. No offers. Crickets.
And just as things picked up in January, we got the text. The Maybee house had another offer.
My hope flushed down the toilet.
And of course, our house went under contract one week later.
Sigh.
The Unexpected Zillow Notification
So now, we’re back at square one. Again. And by this point, I was over it.
Which is why, when I got a Zillow notification while braiding my daughter’s hair, I almost didn’t look.
But I’m human. So I did.
And it actually had potential. Check it out...
4 acres (cleared & level = cost savings!)
Monroe County but right on the Wayne County border (close to work & friends and MASSIVE tax savings)
Two access points (Mark’s brain saw that before mine, but once he pointed it out, I was sold)
$65k (suspiciously good, but still worth looking into)
I sent it to Mark, who was in the other room. Later that night, I crawled into bed and asked what he thought. And—true to form—he saw it exactly the way I did.
I wasn’t getting excited, though. Not yet. Honestly, neither of us were. We’ve had almosts for two years now…
Mark drove by the next morning. A couple of hours later, my phone rang.
“Babe, I think you’re going to like this lot and location.”
(Side note: Mark calls me babe and various other fun names... and I like that.)
I told him, just make the offer.
He was confused. I mean, shouldn’t I see it first?
But I couldn’t. Because if I saw it and loved it, and it didn’t work out? I’d be crushed. And if I saw it and didn’t love it? That would suck too. So I just… trusted my Mark with where he believed would be good for our family. You see, that’s one of Mark’s greatest traits. He’s so considerate it’s almost too much. I knew he knew us well enough to know what we needed, what we wanted, and—somewhat most importantly—what was good for us!
Mark wrote the offer.
The Final YES!
Now, here’s where it got interesting.
There was another offer.
The lot had a $30k water assessment we didn’t know about.
The second part wasn’t a dealbreaker. If anything, it made sense—4 acres, cleared, ready to build? $100k was more realistic. And the water assessment was assumable, spread over time.
So we stayed put with our offer and waited, despite the intense anxiety of waiting with another offer in the mix.
I spent the rest of the day pretending to be normal at a playdate while secretly checking my phone every five seconds.
Then, right as we were heading to our niece’s birthday party, our agent texted:
“The seller is reviewing both offers now.”
Ugh. The dreaded should-we-adjust conversation.
Mark said no. We waited.
And while I was at the party mentally spiraling, Mark took a call, looked over at me, and gave me this smooth, sexy I’m your man and I’m getting us some land kinda nod.
And I knew.
We got it.
I leapt into his arms (literally). We were so pumped.
And—how crazy is this?—all of this happened just two weeks before we flew to Saint Lucia to get married.
Oh yeah… I almost forgot to mention.
I’m now officially The Builder’s Wife.
See you soon as we continue our journey and sharing our lives with you!
Cassie
