Owning a house is…weird.
And I mean that in the best way possible…ok, no I don’t but, let me explain.
On the one hand, there’s this odd sense of pride, which I guess comes from completing a portion of the American Dream, owning property. And you’ve got to wonder, as off-the-rails-out-of-fucking-control as my life seems sometimes, I’ve got to be doing something right, right? But the thing is…I know that a whole bunch of people, all over the world, work excruciatingly hard to get to the point of home ownership and it’s not an easy process to go through, much less to get to. And then there’s me.
And how this whole thing just fell into my lap on a Sunday morning when I crawled out of bed still wrapped in my fluffy blanket, came out to the living room where my boyfriend was sitting in front of his computer researching local apartments cause our lease was up in 2 months, and he turned to me and said, “Hey so, I was thinking…what if we just bought a house instead?” and I mumbled something about coffee first, please.
We’re not well off people, not even close. We don’t live paycheck to paycheck but… we’re not exactly making it rain on a daily basis kind of deal. Circumstances just sort of… aligned, I guess would be a good word to use, in a perfectly weird way to get us to a point where we had the money for a down payment for a house, two months before we had to move out, and a friend who knew the best and most hardworking realtor i’ve ever had the good fortune to encounter.
Of course, the boyfriend decided that we should buy a house the exact week after I had put in my two weeks notice at work, so let me tell you, when I say my life is one big grab-bag of messed up luck and chance, I really do mean that. Because oddly enough, the fact that I didn’t have a job while we were looking for a house was the only reason we actually managed to get the chance to purchase the house we did. The way it works right now in North Texas, given the booming economy here, it’s truly a seller’s market. Listings our realtor would forward for us to look over would be Under Contract (two words we REALLY came to hate with a fervor) the very next day, before we could even decide whether to go look at them. So, with the boyfriend working 10-12 hour days with no chance of taking time off, it fell to me to go shooting off to look at multiple listings with our realtor, in the weirdest and most super stressful parody of Monopoly ever, both of us getting over-caffinated and picking apart each listing in her car while driving to the next, print outs and prices flying all over the place.
The house we picked, or I should say, the house I picked, ended up being a rather huge two story, beautiful house just a block away from the neighborhoods recreational lake and trails area of the neighborhood. And when I say that I picked it,you have no idea how very literal that is. I went to see the house, I fell in love with it (and the neighborhood cause good god man, the whole area is like this insanely idyllic, ducklings crossing, Wisteria Lane kind of deal that was just enchanting to me) , after which we raced back to the realtors office to put a bid on it, as it had only been on the market for a day at that point, so maybe we still had a chance at it. The boyfriend met us at her office, asked me if I liked the house, looked over the print out for it again, and put in a bid, sight unseen. I don’t know if he either trusts and loves me that much, or if he was just caught up in the house buying fever, but the fact that the decision to buy the house fell squarely on my shoulders, the person without a job currently, that was all kinds of surreal. But well, since my names on the title next to his and since he ended up loving the house, i’m going to call it a win.
Anyways, more than a month later, we’re here, in the house, and I still don’t have a job. That’s mostly been a conscious decision on our part, since somebody needed to be free to deal with closing issues, and then the whole moving and unpacking thing, and then being home so the house painter could come in and do their thing. But, now that it’s all done, I finally started looking for a new job in earnest. And, after some working my way through online assessments and questionnaires galore, a couple of interesting phone interviews, and exchanging some nerve-wracking emails (how concise is too concise? And do you send back a smiley back, if they sent you one first?), I have three interviews scheduled for next week, with three different companies, and no idea which one I actually want. And hoping no where else I applied to calls me back, because my head might just explode at that point.
But the point is, I’ve stopped wandering the house in my pj’s, drinking Dr. Pepper and binge watching Criminal Minds when I don’t feel like being creative. The point is, as much as the idea of sitting down for whatever the fudge a “behavioral interview” is, i’m putting on my big-girl pants and heading to the mall this weekend to buy shoes that don’t pinch my toes and put me on edge. I’m practicing my “trust me, i’m very responsible and don’t at all consider coffee a main food group” calm smile, and i’m practicing answering those annoying as-fuck “tell me about a time when…” questions. This, I think, is called progress. And while I don’t think it makes me an “adult”, I think i’m actually kind of somehow… adult-ing successfully.
For now, of course. There’s always the chance i’ll bomb all the interviews and end up selling everything to move to Alaska as was my original plan a year ago but… i’m gonna stay positive for now.
Not drowning in my coffee cups yet,