As of now I have weird smelling carpets, a faulty stove, a haunted refrigerator, a garage door that needs a magic word and a blood sacrifice to open-or close, thousands of old “tenants” or spiders as most people call them, weeds as strong as the aspens in my front yard, and some very interesting quirks this old house wants to keep secret until the most inopportune moments.
Secrets like the communal water well that the neighborhoods water is pulled from, and how some days the water pressure is more a soft drizzle v. the usual random forceful bursts of a fire hose. The first time the neighborhood closed our water off I was in the shower with my hair full of lathered shampoo. The second time, I had the flu and zero plumbing for 3 hours.
My fridge likes to hum from time to time. Not the normal hum of an old motor, but the hum of a clairvoyant old woman pretending to be the daughter of a ghost played by Nicole Kidman in The Others type of humming. I’ve killed more spiders over this summer than I have in my entire life. It’s gotten to the point where they don’t faze me anymore. (Well until they start to crawl on me.) I’ve hired 2 exterminators to come and spray my house. Both have failed to rid me of the horrid legged beasts.
Every house has a water valve that needs to be turned on during the summer so your sprinklers run and then turned off during the winter so your pipes don’t freeze. My valve is under my house, smack dab in the middle. What is the size of the opening to the crawlspace that is full of dirt and spiders you ask? About the same size of my friend’s 14 year old son who offered to climb in and find the valve, army-crawling to the center.
These are only some of the interesting things I’ve come across since buying my little home. But with problems and trials come education and blessings. I have always had someone to help me with my questions or point me in the direction of a good business to work with or offered to come over and show me how to fix something so I can do it myself the next time. Not once have I gone to sleep for the night without having at least a plan on how to make my home better. I can’t express how grateful I am for that.
In this house I’ve had movie nights and dinners. I’ve slept safely and happily in my own bed and on the most comfortable couch I’ve ever owned. My furnishings are being set up and I’m planning for my business. I’m picking out colors and fabrics and furniture and art and flowers and décor.
I’ve had friends come over and help me weed. I’ve had friends show me how to use my sprinkler system, how to turn that system on, how to fix a sprinkler head after you accidentally drive over it, how to open my garage manually, how to adjust my water heater, how to till a garden, how to plant flowers, how to clean grout, how to spray pesticides, how to lube an air conditioning unit, how to clean ceilings, how to deodorize carpets, how to make my own cleaner, how to dust out vents…the list goes on and on. I’m also currently writing this while my carpets are being cleaned and steamed. Everything smells like oranges and soap. And I couldn’t feel more relaxed or happier with how things are coming along.
I moved 9 times in 10 years- it was exhausting. I’ve had a total of 8 roommates, 2 honorary roommates, I’ve lived with each of my sisters in their own homes, and I’ve had my own apartment. I’ve made forever friendships from some of those experiences and I wouldn’t change anything.
It’s time for me to plant some roots. It’s time to settle into this part of my life. Buying this home was one of my proudest and bravest moments. And day by day I’m introducing myself to this house and it is introducing itself to me. It’s mine. All mine. I’m responsible for it. I’m so proud of this life I’m building and that I can have my own place. I feel so blessed. I’m finally at home.