I bought a house last
summer. It was my first (okay maybe
second) true venture into permanence. Or
so I thought.
I’m not a long-term thinker;
never have been. But buying a house is a
long-term decision.
Finally I could build a home;
paint the walls, fix the sink, change and improve as I please. After ten years of renting and never truly
feeling home (or maybe I did, I don’t know), I made a big decision and bought a
house.
“Bought a house” is just three
words, but it would take far more to convey the horrendous pain in the ass that
is buying a house.
But eventually I stood at the front door, keys in hand, and
the rest was all in the past. If it weren’t
for the joyous expectation of that moment and everything that would follow to
counter the never-ending credit checks, endless paperwork, and further plethora
of unknowable hassles, no property would ever change hands.
I’m not sure where I was going with this except to say that
my dream of permanence fell apart. For a
short time I allowed myself to ignore reality.
Eventually (or not so eventually) I will need to pull the plug, give it
up, and experience something new: selling a house.
I do however recommend that keys-in-hand,
front-lawn-staring-at-the-house feeling.
It’s nice.
Walter is my cat.
