Fretting

We hit the house hunting trail again on Sunday. After our last outing, I was a little dissatisfied. Things were nice, but not exactly what we wanted. Too far from the train. Too small in the bathroom.
This weekend we got closer. Very close. Fretfully close. After our first trip my dilemma was that there wasn't much of a choice. But now I lay awake the other night trying to mull over the options.
House hunting suddenly became less fun.
There was an embarrassment of riches to consider: One duplex with 3 decks! And two skylights! Another town-home with a 2 car heated garage! Four floors all facing directly towards sunny Southern exposure! I think I might have actually flung myself against the bay window in one of the rooms.
And even a place in a neighborhood that Jason advocates, but I dread since it will make my long commute longer (and yes, I begrudge even 7 additional minutes on the train, and especially more time in the car.)
There's our place too, which I came home to with a moderately increased appreciation for, but maybe that was because I had a wicked headache that demanded an hour's nap on the couch.

I'm fretting. I need to run all the home prices through my mortgage calculator, and then factor in the taxes, the closing costs, the monthly condo assessments.
This is another one of those times where I want to flip to the last chapter of the book to see how it ends.
Did they pick the right place? (HGTV's HouseHunters is more keenly interesting these days.)
Were they kicked out of their current apartment when their landlord sold it out from under them? (Are they left wandering the streets, with little bundles tied on sticks held over their shoulders? Carrying their cat behind them?)