I’ve been having a witchy week.
First I contemplated flying a broomstick around my house. Then a tornado tried to take me to Oz. As in the Wizard of Oz, not the prison.
But in the end, a house fell on me.
The house that David loved, well, it was supposed to be our house. It just was. And I hated that because it was not exactly the floor plan I wanted. There was one damn wall throwing things off for me….
I may have also hated that I had no control in this choice. Because it just WAS the house. Not a choice, it just was. I can’t explain it any better than that.
To family and friends who are reading this, let me say: It is a very, very nice house. I’m very lucky and I know that. You’re going to love the house when you see it.
It’s not my extravagant tastes that made me want to put the kibosh on this perfect-for-my-family house. I know this because I do not HAVE extravagant tastes. David does. I wanted the cheaper, comfier options. This house is in our budget…and it’s just so damn PERFECT.
Like, Martha Points perfect. As in, I’m not sure I can keep it that way, perfect.
Except why must that one damn wall be there to break up my flow? I am going to have a plethora of floor plan issues setting the house up for a holiday meal.
Ok, deep breath.
So we saw another house that was even MORE perfect. We saw it during a tornado last week and almost ended up hanging with the Lollipop guild. I should have seen that for the foreboding sign it was.
Instead, I tried to convince myself that this perfect floor plan could be mine. MINE!
Except that it couldn’t. There was no room for our family to really grow. If we had more than two kids, we’d be right back in the same place we are now. Seeing as how I want a plethora of children and twins run in my family, room to grow is important.
Also, the front yard looked into a Menards parking lot. Not great for resale value. And there’s no place for Alex to learn to ride his bike. Also, David is a Home Depot devotee. No dice.
So we bought the first house, David’s choice. It is hard to ignore the fact that the house has figuratively fallen directly into our laps. It knocked me over the head with its perfection, demanding to be recognizd. It got out of our dreams and into our car, if you will.
And every day I fall a little more in love with it. I’m so excited about the prospect of moving.
I am not excited about the prospect of packing.
So, some of you may wonder why I had to be dragged into this kicking and screaming when I knew from minute one that this was the right choice for my family. That’s even what I said, repeatedly, as I signed the initial paperwork with rage in my veins. (The rage has since lapsed into happy anxiety hoping the deal goes through without a hitch.)
Well people, the answer is simple: it’s hard to want to buy a house when it has just fallen on you. It turns you into kind of a witch.