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| Happy 2015 from our fur family |
As I mentioned before, I’ve been really happy with where I am in life and I’m not rushing off to get into a new phase. Why do I bring this up again? Because when you make a big decision, like purchasing a home, it can come with lots of curiosities and questions.
When I bought my house almost six years ago, I was surprised how many people wondered why anyone would buy a house as a single person. These people clearly lacked any imagination (and subscribed to my “there are just certain phases that you unlock in order” outlook that I too shared). I was incredibly proud of my first house — it felt like the first big adult accomplishment and it meant I had a space that I could really make as my own.
I wanted that wonderful feeling of home that had been missing for the previous seven years and I was so proud to be a homeowner at 25, damn what everyone else said or thought. I saw a future of little projects and, eventually, the pitter patter of little feet. And we all know that it didn't turn out as expected.
But, through all of the tough times, I have always had my house. My home.
Since then, it has become a bit of our home, but I realized that we do want our own home identity -- a shared one. Having both owned our own homes, we're going through that process together. Consider us consciously-coupled. Yesterday, when talking with an agent, I even used the words "My partner and I are..." and threw up in my mouth a little when I said it (look, we've lived in Seattle too long and are adopting Seattle language -- but what do you call someone who isn't just a boyfriend but not legally a husband? Partner it is. But if I had a choice, it would simply be "Equipo S").
Buying a home is a deeply personal experience -- like marriage or child-rearing or choosing a career, there really is no size that fits all. It is one of those milestones when everyone wants to be helpful with their tips and tricks and I catch myself spending a fair amount of my time politely nodding because, really, we have a different budget or requirements or idea of what will work for us. And as much as we love the ideas and love the help, the comments we get most often are along the lines of:
"You're not buying in Kirkland are you? It's so expensive!"
"Why would you buy across 405? You should be closer to work!"
"There are some great fixer-uppers in our neighborhood."
"Ugh, I can't imagine doing any work on a place."
Yes, it brings up all sorts of fun things. Thank you, anxiety -- you have given me so many ways to respond graciously while maintaining my boundaries, as well as providing me countless opportunities to practice different non sequitur comments in case all else fails.
Because, really, it's all about perspective and all about priorities. S spent a year in Nebraska for grad school, and if we spent what we did for our current homes, we'd have a 4000-square foot mansion with a pool and a guest house. I was chatting with a colleague who lives in the Bay Area and he was surprised at how "cheap" everything was here. When I chat with folks back home, they find it hard to believe how much we will spend to get what we want.
It makes me think of conversations with my grandpa -- he and my grandma loved collecting different things. "You know," he would say, "The book says this is worth $500!" That's when my mom countered, "It's only worth what someone is willing to pay for it!"
So house shopping brings up different kinds of questions. There are some that the nosy want to know (how much do you make? are those the neighbors you want? would would really send your child to that school?). And then there are the deeper questions. A home raises the deepest question of all -- who do you want to be?
And those around you, consciously or not, have to face who they are too.
We were standing in line at the Metropolitan Market a month or so ago and we were behind the Kirkland yoga mom. If you've been to the Met Market in Kirkland, you know her. She's just been to the gym again and now she is clicking her perfectly manicured nails bedecked with oodles of diamonds as the conveyor belt advances (yet she refuses to put the divider between our selections). She speaks down to the clerk but barely pays him any attention because her fingers and gaze are glued to her iDevice.
"Shit," I said when we got in the car. "She's going to be our neighbor. Am I going to make it here? Will our kids have any nice kids to play with?"
That is the key question S and I have to answer -- who do we want to be? Who do we want our family to be? And how does our new home support our Equipo S (potential future) family? It's not about the money or the search or the contracts or the packing and unpacking and sorting. It's really about merging two lives and two identities for us to create a common, shared identity.
Identity aside for just a moment, we can't entirely discount all of the practicalities. We were extremely blessed to have such luck with Sergio's house (thus far -- not about to jinx it). His house went on the market on Thursday and we had FIVE offers, all above the asking price, to choose from on Sunday. WHAT?!??!!1 We were eating dinner with my parents and my brother, munching away at our hot dogs, and we had the ability to select a bid (spoiler -- we took the highest one). The next few days are the most critical, but if things work out well, the house will close on March 31st and we'll be halfway through the selling process. It is heartening that the market is good right now.
It is also hard to let our houses go. We were packing up some personal items at Sergio's last weekend and I just broke down in tears. I was overwhelmed. I was happy that we were moving forward. I was so thankful for all of the memories of that house -- this was a house where I spent some of my darkest days last year. It was the house where Astrix loved to watch people from the windows next to the stairs and the birds and the bunny in the back yard. It was the house where Angelica and Mama y Papa came to stay and the house where I would sit in the bathtub and read and cry when I felt like I had no hope. It's the house that is always too warm upstairs and too cold downstairs (opposite of mine) and with the dryer that never finished fast enough and the fridge with the world's scariest door chime (seriously, I felt like I had to shut the door to defuse a bomb or something!). We had so many wonderful meals there. It took us more than a year to find the right bookcase. And it was the first home outside of my own where I felt welcome. Nothing about the closet had made me emotional, but we just had a hug and a cry and realized that even special things end.
Crap. I'm getting sad just thinking about the smells and the way the light comes in from the south. I'm going to be a big freaking mess when we leave this house.
Because there is so much involved, in every sense of the word, we thought it might be best to take it slowly, and we thought it would be best to not rush into moving. We felt we had a big hurdle to get past (selling his house) before we would be able to consider purchasing. Turned out that was not a big hurdle (thus far -- not about to jinx it) and we happened upon what we hope will be our future house on Saturday afternoon. We visited it again with my mom today and had the same reaction.
We pulled into the driveway at home and I had a weird sensation come over me. "Oh my God," I said. "You know what? I feel the same way about this house today as I did when I found this house [gesturing to current house] and it is exciting and scary together."
It's that horrible feeling of pure excitement and joy and fear of losing the potential future home that you can see for yourself. What now? Now we rush to get the financing we should have already secured (to be fair, we've been through the process four times collectively so we're getting fast) and hoping and praying that no one discovers our potential house before we are ready later this week with our offer.
So send us your good vibes and best wishes and keep your hopes high along with us. The next few days will be a critical period. We love the feeling of where we might live because it does feel like we would want to be there, that we would find nice friends and neighbors, and that we might belong -- that Equipo S will start out on a new phase of life together!
xo,
SarahWhen I bought my house almost six years ago, I was surprised how many people wondered why anyone would buy a house as a single person. These people clearly lacked any imagination (and subscribed to my “there are just certain phases that you unlock in order” outlook that I too shared). I was incredibly proud of my first house — it felt like the first big adult accomplishment and it meant I had a space that I could really make as my own.
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| Home inspection day in April 2009 |
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| Opening the door to my new house with a swollen face (wisdom teeth out the day prior) |
But, through all of the tough times, I have always had my house. My home.
Since then, it has become a bit of our home, but I realized that we do want our own home identity -- a shared one. Having both owned our own homes, we're going through that process together. Consider us consciously-coupled. Yesterday, when talking with an agent, I even used the words "My partner and I are..." and threw up in my mouth a little when I said it (look, we've lived in Seattle too long and are adopting Seattle language -- but what do you call someone who isn't just a boyfriend but not legally a husband? Partner it is. But if I had a choice, it would simply be "Equipo S").
Buying a home is a deeply personal experience -- like marriage or child-rearing or choosing a career, there really is no size that fits all. It is one of those milestones when everyone wants to be helpful with their tips and tricks and I catch myself spending a fair amount of my time politely nodding because, really, we have a different budget or requirements or idea of what will work for us. And as much as we love the ideas and love the help, the comments we get most often are along the lines of:
"You're not buying in Kirkland are you? It's so expensive!"
"Why would you buy across 405? You should be closer to work!"
"There are some great fixer-uppers in our neighborhood."
"Ugh, I can't imagine doing any work on a place."
Yes, it brings up all sorts of fun things. Thank you, anxiety -- you have given me so many ways to respond graciously while maintaining my boundaries, as well as providing me countless opportunities to practice different non sequitur comments in case all else fails.
Because, really, it's all about perspective and all about priorities. S spent a year in Nebraska for grad school, and if we spent what we did for our current homes, we'd have a 4000-square foot mansion with a pool and a guest house. I was chatting with a colleague who lives in the Bay Area and he was surprised at how "cheap" everything was here. When I chat with folks back home, they find it hard to believe how much we will spend to get what we want.
It makes me think of conversations with my grandpa -- he and my grandma loved collecting different things. "You know," he would say, "The book says this is worth $500!" That's when my mom countered, "It's only worth what someone is willing to pay for it!"
So house shopping brings up different kinds of questions. There are some that the nosy want to know (how much do you make? are those the neighbors you want? would would really send your child to that school?). And then there are the deeper questions. A home raises the deepest question of all -- who do you want to be?
And those around you, consciously or not, have to face who they are too.
We were standing in line at the Metropolitan Market a month or so ago and we were behind the Kirkland yoga mom. If you've been to the Met Market in Kirkland, you know her. She's just been to the gym again and now she is clicking her perfectly manicured nails bedecked with oodles of diamonds as the conveyor belt advances (yet she refuses to put the divider between our selections). She speaks down to the clerk but barely pays him any attention because her fingers and gaze are glued to her iDevice.
"Shit," I said when we got in the car. "She's going to be our neighbor. Am I going to make it here? Will our kids have any nice kids to play with?"
That is the key question S and I have to answer -- who do we want to be? Who do we want our family to be? And how does our new home support our Equipo S (potential future) family? It's not about the money or the search or the contracts or the packing and unpacking and sorting. It's really about merging two lives and two identities for us to create a common, shared identity.
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| Be still, my heart. |
It is also hard to let our houses go. We were packing up some personal items at Sergio's last weekend and I just broke down in tears. I was overwhelmed. I was happy that we were moving forward. I was so thankful for all of the memories of that house -- this was a house where I spent some of my darkest days last year. It was the house where Astrix loved to watch people from the windows next to the stairs and the birds and the bunny in the back yard. It was the house where Angelica and Mama y Papa came to stay and the house where I would sit in the bathtub and read and cry when I felt like I had no hope. It's the house that is always too warm upstairs and too cold downstairs (opposite of mine) and with the dryer that never finished fast enough and the fridge with the world's scariest door chime (seriously, I felt like I had to shut the door to defuse a bomb or something!). We had so many wonderful meals there. It took us more than a year to find the right bookcase. And it was the first home outside of my own where I felt welcome. Nothing about the closet had made me emotional, but we just had a hug and a cry and realized that even special things end.
 |
| Even on dark days, I still had Burrito Cat in Sergio's house! |
Because there is so much involved, in every sense of the word, we thought it might be best to take it slowly, and we thought it would be best to not rush into moving. We felt we had a big hurdle to get past (selling his house) before we would be able to consider purchasing. Turned out that was not a big hurdle (thus far -- not about to jinx it) and we happened upon what we hope will be our future house on Saturday afternoon. We visited it again with my mom today and had the same reaction.
We pulled into the driveway at home and I had a weird sensation come over me. "Oh my God," I said. "You know what? I feel the same way about this house today as I did when I found this house [gesturing to current house] and it is exciting and scary together."
It's that horrible feeling of pure excitement and joy and fear of losing the potential future home that you can see for yourself. What now? Now we rush to get the financing we should have already secured (to be fair, we've been through the process four times collectively so we're getting fast) and hoping and praying that no one discovers our potential house before we are ready later this week with our offer.
So send us your good vibes and best wishes and keep your hopes high along with us. The next few days will be a critical period. We love the feeling of where we might live because it does feel like we would want to be there, that we would find nice friends and neighbors, and that we might belong -- that Equipo S will start out on a new phase of life together!
xo,
P.S. This took much longer to write than expected -- we've both been under the weather lately. I'm going through another change of meds (yay!) and trying to tolerate it as best as I can. Later this week I'll share another post about those changes and celebrate a year of therapy and all of its rewards. That is my wish for you, friend -- be healthy today.
In the meantime, hug your loved ones and your pets and have a happy Monday.
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| Chunky Monkey and I on Saturday morning. She's lost almost a pound! |
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