It's been seven weeks since we moved to the Newer! Bigger! House! and just about every spare moment since then has been spent painting, fixing, replacing, sewing, digging, destroying, cleaning, and otherwise pouring sweat and tears into the house. There have been very few complaints because, frankly, we pretty much expected it to be like this. When you buy a trashed foreclosure, you get to do a lot of work. That's the trade-off for getting more house than you could otherwise afford to buy.
Somewhere in there, I think we forgot to sit back and recognize all the good that is coming from all this work. Now that we're starting to round the corner on the looooong list of projects, it's a little easier to remember that there are things about this house that are just fine. Absolutely fine. Maybe even fantastic.
Like, for example, the Mother of All Pantries.
Sure, it is in desperate need of some organizing and sorting and general OCD action, but IT'S A PANTRY! I've never had one of those before. I very nearly did the Dance of Joy right in Target when I realized I could buy the big package of paper towels for the first time because we actually have space for BIG packs of anything. Woohoo for not having to go buy paper towels every other day! (You tree huggers can shoosh it, btw. We have a cat with Irritable Bowel Syndrome. That means daily pukes and poops in random places. I'M NOT CLEANING THAT UP WITH ANYTHING I HAVE TO WASH. The end.)
You know what I don't have to clean up? Dog crap. Gone are the days when a surprise poop by one of the pups meant I had to run inside to grab a bag and then hunt the treasure down by smell. With no homeowner's association, and no tattle-tale neighbors, we are free to let whatever be in the yard, if we so desire. Sure, we do still clean it up, but we don't have to.
Nor do we have to be quiet. Between townhouses and apartments and dorms, it's been 18 years since I last lived in a place that didn't have walls shared with other people. It's SO AMAZING not hearing your neighbor throwing a party for elephants and buffalo at 2:00am. Sometimes I like to just sit and listen to the silence in the middle of the night. Bliss.
More bliss: having a place for Mr. Husband's workout equipment.
I can't even put into words how fantabulous it is to walk into our master bedroom and not see weights and bikes and other such stuff clogging up every inch of floor space. Just thinking about how crammed with crap our old bedroom was makes my blood boil.
Instead of exercise equipment, our master bedroom now boasts pretty lights. Like this:
It's just a cheap-ish light I found on Overstock, but after a coat of copper paint, it's perfect. Our old townhouse didn't have the wiring to have light fixtures in most of the rooms (beyond lamps, of course), so I'm all LOOOOOOK! It's a light! On the ceiling!
It's the little things that make me happy.
And the big things. Like, the dining room:
The fisheye lens makes it look bigger than it really is, but that is still a big dining room. It's big enough for Alexis and I to spread out on the floor and work on art projects. It's big enough to hold said art projects as they dry. It's big enough for Alexis and I to work on Serious Puzzles together at the table. Now, if only Alexis would quit being a poopystinkyhead in Target so that I could buy a Serious Puzzle for her . . .
All that? Yeah, THAT is why we moved.
It's worth every bruise, paint stain, sore muscle, and the empty checking account.