Forbes, Money, Business 2.0, the entire Internet and just about any other source of home-buying advice could never have predicted this one. And even if they had, I still wouldn’t have believed that it would happen to me.

This past weekend my parents took a trip down from the badlands of Ohio. Quite possibly the easiest people in the world to entertain, we ended up not doing much as it rained excessively. We did however get a chance to go out and see a few houses in varying areas of town that The Wife™ and I might be interested in.

Now, home buying is a process wholly unfamiliar to me, as I married into my current abode. I fully admit that each step of this has been daunting, and I’m still not convinced that we’ll ever find a house we agree upon. Or that we won’t be the lone, isolated case in American real estate history where a house failed to ever sell, and that we won’t be doomed to pay two burdensome mortgages for the rest of our lives, living off Marquez burritos and Tab soda. But I’m thinking positively here, trust me.

So Friday, after we had already scheduled four or five houses to see the next day, I got my daily email update from a realtor site about a house in our price range. Ready to immediately disqualify it, I ran through the requirements:

Roof? Check.
Not leaning? Check.
No dirt driveway? Check. Hmmm….it passed round one.
Porch? Whoa, check.
Relatively charming? Check!
Nice, kinda outlying area? Check!
Basement? Double-check! It’s huge!

It was a dream come true*. 2300+ square feet, larger than a postage stamp back yard, doesn’t seem to suck, check!

However, looking at the selling description revealed that it was vacant, offered no disclosure and all bids needed to be preceded by inspections. I sent it to The Wife™, but she (like the realtor) wrote it off. I refused to give up hope, though. I had found the diamond in the proverbial rough. This was the kind of fodder for stories that they immortalize in film, on the big screen, on HGTV!

Upon hearing and seeing the pictures himself, my father took up the case for me, and pressed that we should see it. He became convinced that it was just a seller who was only interested in serious offers. His phone call to the selling agency revealed that it was indeed owned by a corporation, and that they only wanted pre-qualified offers with little price haggling (hence the realistic price tag) . Having all but moved into the house in my head, we resolved to visit on Sunday, on my parents’ way out of town.

So Saturday rolled by, rainy and uneventful. The other houses we checked out were nice, but not for us. An enjoyable dinner of curry chicken (with my first attempt and my own roasted curry powder) and a light fruit pizza for dessert capped off the day. And then the realtor phoned with a bit of news.

Long story long, we didn’t end up touring our not-really-but-fine-for-what-we-can-afford dream home. The reason? It was a meth lab. Yes, the one house that I’ve found, in three months of looking, that didn’t conjure thoughts of The Golden Girls or Deliverance was indeed an authentic meth lab.
Guess I better go stock up on those microwave burritos and Tab.

*Not entirely true. It’s still in suburbia, USA.