We bought a house. I told you I would tell you about how horrible the process of getting it was, but I’m feeling weirdly warm and grateful for having it, so I don’t really want to relive the process.
Without going into the bloody, dramatic and traumatizing details, I will tell you that I had to cut off my social life completely for the last two months while proving where every deposit that wasn’t from my employer came from and providing supporting documentation that the money was either for a gift or payment for services (freelance — not prostitution, sheesh).
Maybe the rest of the world is better about keeping their documents in one safe, dry place organized neatly (like a filing cabinet or something even more preposterous), but I, apparently, like throw my really important (srsly) documents up in the air and let them fall where they will: Behind the dresser, in the attic, kitchen cabinets, under the sofa, in my car, lost forever or TBD.
So going back in time and just finding things like old tax returns (do you keep those? Am I the only irresponsible adult who doesn’t organize this stuff?), college transcripts, paystubs for the last two years, bank statements (which can be printed online, but do you think they make it easy?), W-2′s for three years, birth certificates and social security cards … there were others, but those are the big ones.
It doesn’t matter though.
Because I’m not entitled to a house. I’m honestly honored that we were able to buy a small percentage of a house and that someone trusted two people who can’t keep documents in a folder with the money for the rest of it. The first thing we did when we moved in is buy some filing boxes. We’re on our way.
Like I said last week, I’m sinking my teeth into this house. Every day when I get home, I pick up stray underwear that migrate to all rooms of the house for whatever reason, I’m washing dishes and clothes and vacuuming and sweeping and making my bed. All because this place is the first place that’s ours. And we’re proud of it.
I put all of my weird feelings about being a woman with typically reversed gender roles in my life (I’m not really into the domestic stuff) aside and I’ve been kind of into cooking lately and buying furniture and all of that stuff. It’s like a disease. But it doesn’t feel like we gave up any of our badassedness to have it.
Anyway, it’s coming along. This is the dining room (below) — but it needs some stuff still … we’ve lived there a week. The family room currently does not photograph well because one of our 70-year-old house’s former owners hung curtain rods just, like, wherever, so they’re all lopsided and weird. I’ll share more photos as I go.
The whole process has been really humbling and we’re both grateful to have what we have and to know who we know. Aside from the obvious “WOW” feeling of having the place, people have been so thoughtful and generous helping us move in, unpack, and celebrate.