I moved a lot as a child too. My parents must have had wander-lust in their blood. Things were always changing at our house. The furniture was re-arranged on a quarterly basis. We were always swapping bedrooms. And every few years we just changed towns. My Dad was into computers before computers were something people were into and I think he went where the technology would take him (or at least that was my child-like understanding). My best friend in high school went to the same school for all thirteen years. That was just unfathomable to my teenage brain. How could one stay in one town for so long?
And that wander-lust must have rubbed off on me. I married a man in the military, virtually guaranteeing I would never spend too long in one place. But as the years slipped by, and the moves added up (and in the interest of full-disclosure only two moves were military related, three if you count the move when he left the military) I began to ponder living in one place for a long time. Wondering what it would be like to live in one house for a lifetime. Making friends and keeping them. Not picking up heavy furniture every 12 months. Having my children go to the same school for all thirteen years. Would it be dull? Would the stability be smothering? Or would it be glorious?
I'm about to find out.
Yesterday we closed on a house. I can't even begin to get into what the home buying process was. It was a nightmare. After I hit publish I shall never think nor speak of it again. I started to type the highlights, but really, if I have a record of them I might stumble across them, then I'll have to think of them, and I'm never going to think of them again.
I didn't blog the process as it happened because I was too happy about buying the house. I was so happy my body could not hold it all in, and it bubbled out in smiles, laughter, and occasionally happy tears. To be honest, so much joy felt foreign to me. I worried that if I called attention to how happy I was the universe might notice me. Surely this much joy is not meant to be felt by one person. I didn't want them to realize their mistake and take measure to correct the situation, or temper my joy by filling the house with termites.
But the documents are all signed and recorded. The locks have been changed and the house is mine.
It was a foreclosure house, so there is a bit of work to be done in the house. Not as much as there could have been. The house was broken into and the appliances were stolen after we went into contract. So the bank had to install brand new appliances and fix the garage door. If only we hadn't stumbled upon the break-in before they came back for the fridge (we went to the house and the doors were all open and the fridge was on a dolly by the door, they never came back for it). We have a VA loan. And the VA inspector declared the house to be unsanitary. Our lender refused to fund the loan until the house was cleaned, the carpets were washed, and the pool was swim-able. That's right. I said POOL.
So I am now the co-owner (The Greatest signed the loan too) of a house with a pool. But the love doesn't stop there. The previous owners pimped the house out with lots of upgrades. My favorite is probably the humongous balcony off the master bedroom where I plan to sit and knit every day! I'll show you lots of pictures when we are done. But in the meantime I've got walls to wash.
And painting to do.
So we can move in and do this