Mi Casa Es Su Casa
(written July 3)
I keep staring at this blank Word document (never type directly into Blogger—you’re bound to lose it) wondering how to begin.
Sin of omission: I will spare the blog all the harrowing details of the financial and other bullcrap issues involved with closing on the house. Just in case you’re wondering, yes, anything that can go wrong at a closing most likely will. Even if you’ve done everything right. Even if the seller is only a mid-level jerk, not an ass with the key to the executive washroom of jerk-dom. Suffice to say that I drew my only two bank accounts to a zero balance in order to pay for the house, and maybe bounced a check in the process. My two real estate agents have vowed to boycott my lender and the Better Business Bureau may get involved. Thank goodness it’s a holiday week and I don’t have to think about all this until Wednesday.
But she’s mine. On June 30, I became a homeowner. And around midnight that night, I sat on my front porch and watched the fireflies dart around my front yard and cried.
Fireflies. In my yard. At dusk, my front lawn is like a blinking phosphorescent sea. Joy.
I have been floored by the unexpected joys of Louisville. I thought I’d be happy here. Happy or maybe just okay. But in the past three days I’ve been a-twitter with love for this place. It may wear off, it may wane, but right now it’s bliss.
The first unexpected joy has been my neighbors. Within hours of arriving, we’d already been visited by three neighbors. We didn’t unpack til the 1st of July, and that day we had more visitors. One with a stack of take-out menus. One with an offer to help us unload. And our next door neighbor came by late in the afternoon with a case of Bud Light, a 12-pack of Mountain Dew, a large pizza, a cooler, a bag of ice, and a bag of Fritos. (I was in the bathroom when she came by, but when I found out, I commenced to sobbing again). They’re old and young, singles and families. The three houses to our right are occupied by the same family—sort of. A daughter, her parents, and the third house belongs to the daughter’s soon-to-be-ex-husband. Right now I’d say we’ve met 80% of the people in a five house radius. Never in my life have I met such friendly people—both in my neighborhood and just around town.
The next unexpected joy has been just how much there is to do within walking distance. On the night that I closed on the house, we were too pooped to unload the UHaul, so we walked the neighborhood and bar-hopped. Within a 10 block walk north or south on the main road by us, I think it would be safe to say that we have more than 75 restaurants, coffee shops, and bars. If you add the other two big roads near us, that number is well over 100. Within six blocks of my house, we have three coffee shops, an independent movie theater, around 15 restaurants, a grocery store, two drug stores, several boutiques, an ice cream store, a gas station, a post office, and several banks. And I think, if you push another block, we have a public library as well.
The expected joy, I suppose, is how deeply significant it feels to become a homeowner. I have to constantly remind myself of this fact as I am unpacking.
It’s been 95 every day here since we moved. Hell on the unpacking. We went through five bottles of Gatorade the day we unpacked the truck. We’re down to just the stuff in the cars, but again today we’ll have to wait til dusk to get it done. (Dusk—I’ll never get used to this—comes around 915pm. It’s not dark here until after 10pm. Reminds me a bit of Ireland, except in Ireland it didn’t get dark until after 11pm during the summer.)
I’ll post more pictures of the house as soon as I have internet at home. Hopefully within the next few days. Time to go home and resume the settling in.
I keep staring at this blank Word document (never type directly into Blogger—you’re bound to lose it) wondering how to begin.
Sin of omission: I will spare the blog all the harrowing details of the financial and other bullcrap issues involved with closing on the house. Just in case you’re wondering, yes, anything that can go wrong at a closing most likely will. Even if you’ve done everything right. Even if the seller is only a mid-level jerk, not an ass with the key to the executive washroom of jerk-dom. Suffice to say that I drew my only two bank accounts to a zero balance in order to pay for the house, and maybe bounced a check in the process. My two real estate agents have vowed to boycott my lender and the Better Business Bureau may get involved. Thank goodness it’s a holiday week and I don’t have to think about all this until Wednesday.
But she’s mine. On June 30, I became a homeowner. And around midnight that night, I sat on my front porch and watched the fireflies dart around my front yard and cried.
Fireflies. In my yard. At dusk, my front lawn is like a blinking phosphorescent sea. Joy.
I have been floored by the unexpected joys of Louisville. I thought I’d be happy here. Happy or maybe just okay. But in the past three days I’ve been a-twitter with love for this place. It may wear off, it may wane, but right now it’s bliss.
The first unexpected joy has been my neighbors. Within hours of arriving, we’d already been visited by three neighbors. We didn’t unpack til the 1st of July, and that day we had more visitors. One with a stack of take-out menus. One with an offer to help us unload. And our next door neighbor came by late in the afternoon with a case of Bud Light, a 12-pack of Mountain Dew, a large pizza, a cooler, a bag of ice, and a bag of Fritos. (I was in the bathroom when she came by, but when I found out, I commenced to sobbing again). They’re old and young, singles and families. The three houses to our right are occupied by the same family—sort of. A daughter, her parents, and the third house belongs to the daughter’s soon-to-be-ex-husband. Right now I’d say we’ve met 80% of the people in a five house radius. Never in my life have I met such friendly people—both in my neighborhood and just around town.
The next unexpected joy has been just how much there is to do within walking distance. On the night that I closed on the house, we were too pooped to unload the UHaul, so we walked the neighborhood and bar-hopped. Within a 10 block walk north or south on the main road by us, I think it would be safe to say that we have more than 75 restaurants, coffee shops, and bars. If you add the other two big roads near us, that number is well over 100. Within six blocks of my house, we have three coffee shops, an independent movie theater, around 15 restaurants, a grocery store, two drug stores, several boutiques, an ice cream store, a gas station, a post office, and several banks. And I think, if you push another block, we have a public library as well.
The expected joy, I suppose, is how deeply significant it feels to become a homeowner. I have to constantly remind myself of this fact as I am unpacking.
It’s been 95 every day here since we moved. Hell on the unpacking. We went through five bottles of Gatorade the day we unpacked the truck. We’re down to just the stuff in the cars, but again today we’ll have to wait til dusk to get it done. (Dusk—I’ll never get used to this—comes around 915pm. It’s not dark here until after 10pm. Reminds me a bit of Ireland, except in Ireland it didn’t get dark until after 11pm during the summer.)
I’ll post more pictures of the house as soon as I have internet at home. Hopefully within the next few days. Time to go home and resume the settling in.
posted by M at 10:12 AM
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