Putting My Foot In My Mouth

Have you ever said something, and as soon as you did, question whether or not it was a good idea? I'm not talking about minor social faux pas like asking a fat women how far along is she, but something that had actual real world consequences that involved you paying sums of money that you otherwise would not have...and I'm not specifically talking about trying to bribe your way out of a traffic ticket, although that would qualify.
The other day I got a letter from my insurance broker informing me that they required an updated worksheet about my house in order to determine replacement value. I happened to be in town on a business day, for once, so I stopped by to have a chat with my broker. Now, when I bought my house, the realtor stated that the age of my house was unknown, but for some reason, put down the year 1953 as the construction date. I presumed this to be wrong based on a number of structural and architectural details that indicated (albeit to my non-qualified eye) that the house actually harkened back to my beloved design period the 1930's (hence why I love my house so much).
EDITORS NOTE: when I say my house is from the thirties I mean the main floor only. The upstairs is an 1989 addition.
I of course took so much personal pride in my innate knowledge of thirties architecture, that when the broker asked me if the house (main floor) was built in 1953, I did not even hesitate to respond that I believed it to be from "probably the mid-thirties". She asked me why I thought this, and I replied about the coved ceilings, large wood beams in the structure, and the prominent archway at the front door (also the pocket doors, and the consistent narrow fir flooring, plaster lathe walls…etc...). She hmmmmed for a while, typed some numbers in the computer, and informed me that this increased the replacement value of my home substantially. In fact, the difference between the 1930's and 1953 is about $30,000 (due to all that good wood that needs replacing). I tried to back pedal at this point, citing the purchase documents that indicated the 1953 date. However, she insisted that I look into this. Now, I wasn't to enthused about this task, as I thought it would be complex, but a simple call to the City Hall engineering department revealed that my house was in fact, as I had deduced, been constructed in the mid-thirties (1936 to be precise). So at least I have my pride, although it looks like my premiums are going to rise.
Oh, and judging from the lacerations on my lips, my toenails need a trim.