Making this home

In some ways, this house already feels like home. Because when I picture going home at night, it's here that I picture. And when I feel tired in the mornings and wish that I could crawl back into bed, its our ridiculously huge bedroom that I long for. Slowly, subtly I am making the place ours. I have color swatches tacted to the walls as I attempt to determine which red, green, taupe I like where. I've purchased little bins and trays in an attempt to make myself be more organized ala Dooce. I keep a running list in my head of the rooms, drawers, and shelves that I should be organizing instead of watching tv or playing Bejeweled Blitz on Facebook.

But I am not going to lie. I kind of keep waiting for the bottom to fall out. A similar (but definitely not at all similar) situation about six years ago turned my world on it's ear and it all started/ended with moving into a new house. While the only familiar player in this sequel is me, I cannot help but notice the occasional ringing in my left ear of déjà vu. Yet Mike is not him and I am not who I was six years ago and this marriage is nothing like that relationship was.

Our second anniversary is quickly approaching and I can look back and say that year two was far more difficult than year one. Year one was a breeze in comparison. While we look around us and see numerous friends' marriages falling apart, we hold each other a little tighter, try to listen a little bit better and speak a little more clearly. I don't want to be a statistic. Or maybe I do; just one of the ones who made it through successfully.

I know without a doubt that this man loves me more than anyone else ever has, aside from my family. I can feel it in every touch and taste it in each kiss. I know that as long as I am willing to keep on keeping on, so will he. He has watched both of his parents marry, divorce, remarry and divorce again. He knew he didn't want that. I see my parents, with their 30th wedding anniversary a week away and know that they are something to aspire to.

Marriages like that are more than just a contract on paper.

Marriages like that are a foundation and walls and fabrics and pictures and everything that makes a house a home. No amount of planting or painting or organizing is going to make this home, because it already is.

Inevitable

The packing/moving is pretty damn stagnant as we wait on all that paperwork and three day waiting period "required by law". We have a majority of our household in boxes, scattered (or rather, tightly packed into corners) as we attempt to survive in these albeit even smaller quarters now. I don't even want to mention the newest day that we are "supposed" to have the keys, because any time I say it out loud, its as if I jinx the damn thing and it gets bumped back. Again.

All I know is that we have to be out of our apartment on June 30th. It has to be spick and span clean when we leave. And I just completed day 1 of an eight day work stretch. I am already exhausted. My only saving grace is the fact that I by sheer, dumb luck have next weekend off. The salon is closed for the 4th of July and I have the 5th off anyway. 

In all truth, the entire house has come together in the finding, bidding and purchasing in a relatively short period of time. Its been less than a month since it even came into the picture, so while I bitch about how long this is taking and how slow things are moving, I know that I am fortunate. It is looking like we will not have to move into my parent's garage for even one night.

(knock on wood)

Death, divorce and moving house are said to be the three most stressful situations in life. I don't know how much more my fingernails can take!

Where to even begin

  The upcoming weekend is a big one because not only is it Father's day, but also, it is my mother's birthday. And while last year, my dad and I successfully pulled off a wonderful surprise party for my mother (complete with out of town guests), this year feels like it should be even bigger for us. Because this house we're moving into - my parents are buying for us. 

    It was kindly brought to my attention that I may be making it seem like Mike and I are purchasing the house ourselves and God, I wish we were in the financial situation where we could be buying a house right now. But the economy is shit (didn't know you???) and we are no closer to buying a house than I was ten years ago. Haha. Sad but true. However, my parents are the kind of people who have the foresight to see what kind of an investment another rental house would be for them (they own several all ready) and having their daughter  living there will increase the value in the long run too. Because I am itching for a house of my own and by the time we leave,  it will be even in better condition than when we move in. Light fixture improvements, color . . . etc. 

    So I have no idea what to do for either of them on their respective holidays, but I do (finally) have a couple of days coming up beforehand and will find something then (hopefully).

    Mom and I have been looking for some great upholstery fabric to recover the dining room table chairs with. The table is in great condition, as are the seats, but the current fabric has to go. It's pretty, but so not my style. This, however, is:

You're thoughts?

Also, been wondering what color to do my scrap/sew/write/knit/office room in. I want something inspiring . . . probably something purple. I cannot help but love things in purple. 

Settling down . . .

   Our hallway is littered with empty boxes. You have to nearly brush the wall with your shoulder to get by on your way to our bedroom. Right now, in the living room, three feet before me and between myself and the television sits four packed boxes and another three, also waiting to be filled. I've already taken three massive bags of clothing to Goodwill, though I suspect there will be another trip or two or four before this venture is complete.

   Mike dropped off an early lease termination letter and a money order to the office today. We have till June 30th to pack, clean and vacate our first apartment as a married couple. The apartment I unpacked my wedding china in, filled my drinkware into, got my first dining room table for. 

   We are moving into a house. A home. With a backyard and a door bell and air conditioning. Two car garage! Ice maker! No neighbors living above me, below me or hogging all the open parking in front of us! The excitement is bubbling, but the dread of moving, YET AGAIN, is quelling that excitement at the moment. It is, to say the least, overwhelming.

   I have never made it a secret that I am third generation packrat. A horrible, stifling habit that I am really wanting to break, if possible. I managed to only get my bedroom closet cleaned out and packed yesterday, but that would be because I also was going through everything, creating two piles. One to keep and one to donate. My policy has been to have split second decisions on everything. Keep or get rid of. If I have hesitated, clearly that is nod in the "get rid of" pile. I am hoping that it all goes smoothly in the downsizing of the posessions as we upgrade our living space.

   Ideally, we'd be able to paint and ease on into the new house, come back to the apartment and clean it before the end of the month. This of course, would be in a perfect world, when I don't have to work. So instead, I'll be making the most of my time off of work (you know, in the mornings, evenings and days off) to accomplish as much as I can. The painting will have to wait until after we are moved in.

    But here we are. About to take this step. I knew this year would be magical.

So here is the front, obviously. Not sure how long we'll keep that house color. We are having the siding redone on the sides and back of the house and it may be enough to warrant a complete color change. If not, I'll at least paint the front door.

The living room, entry and a peek into the mud room. The mud room leads into the garage.

The kitchen . . . ahh the kitchen. Bright, open and with an island. I'm thinking red for the walls, as long as it doesn't make the formica look too pink. Yes, formica. Yuck. But that can be changed. The fridge, gas range, dishwasher and stools all come with the house.  

One of the bedrooms . . . most likely to become the guest room/office/my craft room. 

The other bedroom, which will probably become Mike's "Mancave". Sigh. Yes. I married a dork. 

Our bedroom, which is about the size of my dormroom in college. And while two people will again be sharing the space, it is in somewhat different circumstances. Now, we'll be able to have our dressers in the same room with us. Also . . . there's a walk in closet. Walk. Inside. Closet.

Our sweet little backyard. I'll hope to extend the patio by next summer, since we really hope to have plenty of bbqs and get togethers for all our friends. 

I cannot wait.