It's gotten seriously ridiculous with a mountain of clean clothes threatening to topple whenever you're looking for something so your husband tells you he'll help you to knock it out.
You start mad folding.
And folding.
And folding.
All of the folded clothes are on your bed in nice neat stacks.
You're still folding.
And folding.
And folding.
Your husband comes into the room and starts putting away clothes.
A previously owned home in the area you live, which is a 40 minute commute from your job. (It's nice enough but you'd have to do some basic work to it to make it YOURS.)
OR
A brand new GORGEOUS home, built with your preferences, which is 40 minutes away from where you currently live and 1 hour and 20 minutes away from your job?
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