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Home Sweet Home

It finally happened. After a painfully long wait (okay, three weeks) I have a home of my own again. Three weeks doesn’t sound like such a long time, does it? But it has definitely felt like an eternity, particularly since I am one of the world’s worst movers and I hate this entire process. After selling our last place, hubby and I had a little lag time before closing on our new house. A week later, we got the keys and headed over, ready to take possesion of our groovy new house (brick ranch, beautiful yard, three full baths!) — only to realize, as we watched them loading up their truck, that the sellers hadn’t finished moving out yet. Not a big deal. We were patient. We waited another day, came back, and realized that yes, the sellers had moved out now, but they left all the junk they didn’t want. I expected some dust and cleanup duties, but hauling Mrs. Seller’s sticky old kitchen rejects out of my new cupboards was not part of my plan. Still, not a big deal. We carried on, throwing junk out of our closets, washing down every surface of the house, and scrubbing ancient jelly spills out of the cabinets before we tackled Project #1: Painting the Basement. I think I’ve been watching too many of those home improvement shows on TV, because I honestly had thought you could paint a room in a day. Crazy talk, apparently. After three days, six gallons of paint, and the umpteenth trip to the hardware store, I realized that those shows are impossible for an average Joe and Jane to live up to. Next up, Project #2 was Updating the Electrical Wiring. Electrician #1 showed up, gave us an estimate, and never returned another call. Electrician #2 showed up, fiddled with some wiring, left us with a much higher estimate and a tripped circuit breaker. When hubby tried to flip the switch to reset the breaker, he received a highly unexpected light show complete with sparks, pops, and a momentary household blackout. Creepy, no? Electrician #3 fixed the wires that #2 had misplaced; the wires had literally melted part of our electrical panel. Seriously creepy. But things got fixed, so… not too big of a deal, right? We moved on to Project #3: Refinishing the Hardwood Floors. (Actually this was probably more like project 44, but who’s counting?) Keep in mind, we hadn’t moved much into the house yet, since this is a messy, dusty, and toxic-fumey sort of endeavor. We turned to the professionals for this gig, and they promised to bring in a talented crew and the right equipment, and be done with it in two days. Riiiiight. Three days later, a crew appeared. Two days after that, we went over to our new place to inspect our gleaming hardwoods, and found a note. A scribbled note on a Post-It, informing us that the sander had gunked up, konked out, and that the crew was sorry. That was the last we heard from that crew. Three days after that, we finally got our gleaming hardwoods and started the not-entirely-fun process of moving in. Which leads me to today. We spent the first night in our new place on Saturday, and spent today tackling the maze of boxes that hold the many, many (very important!) piles of stuff that make up our household. Oddly enough, I’m enjoying the process. It took a few weeks and a lot of deep-breath, count-to-ten-because-it’s-really-not-a-big-deal patience, but we’re finally here, and there really is no place like home.

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Home Sweet Home?

I’m in hell. House-hunting hell, that is. (And yes, before you offer, I do have a real estate agent already, thank you.) Hubby and I are selling our first house, so this staging-showing-selling-looking-buying all at once insanity is brand new to us. Is is just me, or is this incredibly stressful to everyone? We just listed our place last week, and now we’re tip-toeing around our own house, picking up every newspaper page and stray crumb the very second they dare to scatter around our oddly immaculate house. We did the staging thing, where you get rid of half your stuff to make your house look more like a show home. My dog is with his grand-puppy-parents for the time being, because A) he is a lovable-but-hairy monster and sheds like crazy all the time, and B) he’s just big and scary-looking enough that I can’t show the house if he’s here alone. That part really sucks. On the other hand, keeping my house and husband in perfect order all the time is something I could almost get used to. This place has never looked better. We cleared out our closets, cleaned under the stove, organized our storage room, scrubbed the walls, and suddenly I’m vaccuuming every day and the house looks pristine. If only this was normal. But I already feel like I’m living in a place that is no longer mine. And honestly, I can’t wait to sell the house and get back to our not-so-perfect, slightly messy real lives in a new home.