A warm thank you and virtual hug to everyone to congratulated us on the end of our house hunt. Your comments were lovely to read, and I am grateful that you came along on our long, bumpy ride.
I will post more about what the new place is like, but not tonight. I need to be in the right frame of mind. It is not a perfect place; it has a few significant shortcomings along with many features we will love. To describe it fairly I need to be in the right frame of mind. And my moods are all over the place these days: at any given minute I might be in shock, filled with joy or dread, or simply overwhelmed by all the labor , logistics, decisions, and expenses that lay ahead.
I also have this idea that we will be completely poverty-stricken carrying two properties for however many months it takes us to fix up and sell our current place. It really feels like a huge, scary financial stretch, especially for this frugal daughter of Depression-era parents. But it seems it had to be done if we were ever going to move. Our mortgage guy/banker (who closes his many of emails with "Love and Peace,") says it's okay; perhaps we foolish for trusting him and his hippie charm. But I keep finding myself asking friends for recipes that include a lot of water.
I'm also already feeling homesick for this apartment, even though we've been so desperate to leave it. For one thing, it's my strongest, most direct connection to the Sabines, who I plan continue to research and eventually write about. I love our place because it was theirs.
My emotional roller-coaster is normal. Moving is commonly considered one of life's most traumatic experiences; on psychologists' Stressful Event Scale, it's just behind "death of a loved one" and "divorce." Knowing this is a small comfort... sometimes. At any rate, I'm allowing myself to freak out for a certain amount of each day.
At least I'm not feeling the horror and "this is wrong" gut feeling I had when we thought we were buying that house in Newton. That was truly awful. This is awful, too, but at least I believe we're buying a great place for us, so there's excitement when there isn't trepidation. And when the dust settles, there's hope that we'll slowly start to feel that there's no place like home — again.
But, first, we're escaping to Maine tomorrow. We're heading to the inn in Southwest Harbor for a week, with a stop along the way to visit Connie's kittens one more time before they head to the shelter to be adopted. (No, not to pick out a little fuzzy housewarming present. No, no, no. That's Lion.) It will be good to get out of here and get some distance and perspective. In the hot tub, of course.
I will try to post at least a few time while we're up there.
I am extra glad to escape here because I found a scary critter in my kitchen cupboard today: