Two years ago today, I signed away my life and any future earnings for the privilege of living in a home that was woefully in need of a new kitchen, a new bathroom, and yeah, maybe new plumbing, too.
The plumbing is (knock on pipe) ok. I remodeled the bathroom and the kitchen. I pulled up the carpet and refinished the floors. I have painted until I could paint no more. I love this house.
Buying a home was a big deal for me. I had owned a home with an ex-boyfriend, and when we split, he stayed in the house and I ended up in an apartment with the thinnest walls ever. It was a very painful ego blow to leave a house that I had done so much work on. I was reminded of this blow three times a day, as I walked my dogs around the apartment parking lot in snow, sleet, rain, two nice days, and then blazing hot sun.
I was determined to buy a fenced backyard with a house attached. I saw it as getting my footing back, a sign that I had recovered from The Recent Unpleasantness.
I bought my house at a time when I probably shouldn’t have. The market had started to recede, but it was still fairly high on the hog. I was self employed and could have scored a much better loan had I waited a few months. But I was emotionally ready, and it was possible, and it happened.
Yes, I bought a house while working full-time (and then some) as a self-employed writer. This was less than two years after I decided to leave my ex, despite the fact I had exactly $25.33 to my name.
I’m just starting to realize that this was a pretty sweet thing. So, happy houseversary to me.
But here’s the weird thing: the house that was once the culmination of all of my work and dreams is now just sort of … a house.
I’m only there half of the time. I know that once we are married, I will sell my house and move in with Mr. Wonderful. While I once thought that would be incredibly painful, right now it looks fine. I’m looking forward to not having to shuttle the dogs back and forth between houses and not maintaining two houses. I’m looking forward to not being banished every two weeks when Mr. Wonderful has the Ladybug.
I know I will look back on this time and miss it, miss having my own space. But right now? Right now, I’m just tired of moving all the time. This house has ceased being my refuge.