Now that we know we're going to be here for at least another five years, it's time to get serious about the whole house thing. I hate, hate, HATE throwing away money on rent every month, especially when mortgage payments can be as low or even lower than what you might pay to lease. Therefore, today's expedition had an entirely new level of gravity to it; we were on a mission.

There are some beautiful houses on the market around here - gorgeous houses in which I would kill to live. Mind you, the house in which I grew up was something of a dump; Mom says it was meant to be their "starter" home, but they never built up the initiative to move anywhere else (read, "Dad" never built up the initiative). It was a one bedroom, one bath deal; they built a wall in the living room to create an extra bedroom for me, and when brother came along three years later, they pushed me up into the unheated, unaired, uncarpeted attic. Ours was the house on the block that lowered everybody else's property values.

I want a nice house. Is that too much to ask? Isn't it my turn? Didn't I build up some kind of karma by alternately sweating it out and then freezing in my parents' house all those years? (And if the house didn't do it, surely being picked up from grade school in my father's bright orange Terminix car must have.) I don't need a mansion, but I'd like a dwelling of which I can feel at least a little proud.

Eric wants us to pay no more than $80,000, which would be fine if we lived somewhere else. In Toledo, it seems, eighty grand will get you a shack, ventilated with bullet holes. Houses around here are obscenely expensive. For a nice three bedroom in a decent neighborhood, the buyer can readily expect to pay at least $100,000, and would walk away feeling like he got an incredible bargain if he spent no more than that. In some of the nicer neighborhoods, the same house might go for $150,000. Houses that go for $150,000 back in West Virginia can go for double that in the Toledo area.

We looked at several houses today, but only went into two. The rest we discarded at a glance as blatantly out of our league. Of the two we went into, we were somewhat pleased, if a little disheartened. The first was a converted twinplex, built in the sixties. Three bedrooms, two baths, dining room, and kitchen. No appliances, except for an ancient portable dishwasher. Two car detached garage, crawl-space foundation. Definitely not a bad house, at least for a starter home; it was $120,000. And we would have to buy a stove and a fridge on top of that.

The second house was beautiful. I mean breathtakingly beautiful, in my book. Again, three bedrooms, one and a half bath, kitchen, living room, and family room. Appliances stay, two car attached garage, gas fireplace, bay window. They want $135,000, which is really quite a steal, in this neighborhood. Still, just because it approaches reasonable does not make it affordable. We thanked the realtor and left, saddened.

Eric wants to know why, with our decent salaries, we still seem to be struggling. He wants to know why he sees SUV's parked in front of big houses owned by people our age, while we struggle. I told him that they're not necessarily making smart choices, and reminded him that we could have much more money per paycheck if he wasn't paying into his retirement fund at the highest possible level, or if we hadn't bought into the "Cadillac" health insurance plan. (Good thing we did, what with Eric's diabetic diagnosis not two months later.)

Still depressed about the whole thing. We've done everything "right;" why aren't we reaping the rewards? I guess we'll have to tighten the belt a little further. Eating at home more will be a start; no more frivolous book and software buying would also help. It's not like we spend our paychecks as fast as we get them, though. We do have savings, though we don't add to them as frequently as we should.

It's the whole down payment thing that's the killer. How, in this day and age, does anyone manage to save up a down payment of any decent size? (And yes, I know that certain plans will allow you to buy without placing a big down payment; the size of the required monthly payments entailed in those plans is a little high for our tastes.) I understand that many folks' parents actually help out with the up-front cash. Even if I felt comfortable with asking for help - and I very much do not - neither of our sets of parents would be able to help in that manner. For Pete's sake, Eric's mom is on disability; my parents are still putting my brother through college. These people are supposed to loan me money for a house? Seems like we should be loaning them cash!

I'm feeling a little guilty, because we've agreed that I won't work outside of the house when our baby comes. We both believe that's the only way to go, but I feel awful putting that kind of pressure on Eric's shoulders. It means we really can't count on my salary when getting our mortgage, so we can't afford as much house as we want.

Eric says not to feel guilty in any way. "Neither of our mothers worked when we were small, right?" he says. "Would you have traded that away? Just because things are more expensive, should we parent in a different way, one that's not what we want?"

He's right, and I love him for it. Still, when I see his shoulders slump at the sight of a house he can't afford for us, my heart breaks a little bit. He actually asked me today what direction he should take his career: "I can fast-track it, tell them I want my own plant." When I asked him if that was what he wanted he replied, "No, but it will certainly provide for our family."

I just want him to be happy. It's all I've wanted since the beginning. It hurt to watch him flounder when we first moved out here for my graduate school; it pained me to know that I had ripped him away from his family and friends. It seems like everything I do affects him negatively in some way.

I don't think this is something that can be remedied by good sex, either. One of these days, I'm going to have to get him to tell me exactly what he gets out of this marriage.