Some people think it's surprising that I would let Dan choose our new home. Those are people who either a) haven't met me or b) haven't met Dan. This will actually be the second home Dan has chosen for our family that I've agreed to sight unseen.
Here's the honest to God truth: he has higher standards than I do. I'm already living a better life than I ever could've imagined. If he likes it, I'll like it. I just needed to ask a few key questions before he signed the contract. (How many bedrooms? Where is the washer/dryer? How many windows are in the kitchen? Is there a wine cellar?) (Answers: 4, don't know, at least one, seriously?)
The rental market in London is crazy. The prices are hilarious, for starters. But also, a house/apartment is not officially yours until all parties have signed and you've peed in the toilet. (I might be exaggerating on that last point, but you get the picture.) So while I'm super psyched that we've come to an agreement with the landlord, I'm not counting my chickens just yet.
What I can say for sure, is that I can't wait to unpack, nest and sleep in my own bed.
5 weeks and counting!