I have been holding out on you. In my defense, it happened really fast, and I wanted to post about it, but with one thing and another, I didn’t. OK, to be completely honest, I am more superstitious than I like to admit. And, too much has gone wrong on this front lately to make me comfortable until it was a sure thing. But, as of today, it is a sure thing.
We close on a house today. And, for awhile, I wasn’t sure we’d get here on this house either. Several times, it seemed like it would fall through. Last week, they changed our closing date on us, after we had set up movers, contractors, and child care. Why did they change the date? Because they waited till a week before to look for movers and then found, much to their surprise, that they couldn’t get any movers for a Sunday.
But, it is over. After today, they will be gone and we will be in. (Due to some last-minute wrangling, this will all happen at the same time. Should you be in Los Angeles and wish to observe complete and total chaos, come on over.) The boys and I will not move in for another two weeks, because we are shortly getting on a plane to go visit the East Coast, but J will move in and work on setting some things up. (He will NOT, however, touch my books. Are you reading, babe? You are, under no circumstances, to try to unpack my books. I will decide how to organize and arrange them, and I alone will unpack each and every tome that has been stuffed into storage for two years. Go get an obsession of your own.)
The house is half the size of what we had in Philadelphia and is almost twice the cost. Some housing slump. Yet, it is charming, has a yard, and is all that we really need. There is a converted garage that needs some work but will function nicely as a playroom opening directly onto the yard. There is a deck. Most importantly, I have spotted both a really good children’s book store and a fire station just down the road. (Around the corner; the house is residential, but there is a commercial cross-street just down the block. Don’t worry, our street will not have fire trucks screaming down it all day and night.)
I wish I could describe it, but it is not all that exciting to anyone except for us. I wish I could post pictures, but then all my stalkers would be able to find me. So, suffice it to say that it will be ours and will suit us just fine.
It will be our home until another house is. I have moved too much, too often, to put much stock in the abstract concept of “home.” At our wedding, J and I danced our first dance to Billy Joel’s “You’re My Home” because, for me, he’s pretty much all the home I have ever had.
I tried to see our first two houses as lifetime homes. I am no longer naïve. A house is where we live, where we play, where we bathe before bed. A home is wherever we all are until we move somewhere else.
As long as it is not beige and possessed by an evil coffee table.