Our house in France is what you get when you send a boy to do a woman's job. OH couldn't go during school holidays, and I didn't fancy hauling a then 8 yr old around most of France.
So one carefully planned itinerary for husband, clear instructions that we were looking for an already done old house with no more than an acre of land and 3-4 bedrooms, instantly rentable as a holiday let. 6 months searching for the right houses by me, 10 potentials found, detailed information collected, viewings arrange, hire car & accommodation booked, route plugged into sat nav, off you go husband.
Spanner in the works was an eager estate agent who tells OH he has just viewed a property that he is sure someone of OH's taste and refinement would appreciate (hah! That's a woman's trick, sneaky bastard, appeal to their ego). Escorts husband to said refined and tasteful property. OH falls in love before he has even seen inside. He then develops selective deafness every time I utter 'You cannot be f***ing serious' down the phone.
That, ladies, is how you end up with a small Chateau of 11 bedrooms with outbuildings and 11 acres in the middle of France.
Once I counted up the number of scatter cushions required and informed OH he was looking at 20k for curtains alone, I secured the one redeeming element of the deal, being my brand new sewing machine.
TL : DR if you want a new machine send your gullible other half to buy a sensible house in France.