We came into the neighborhood to visit my mother and slowed down as we came up over the hill to see a white house with green trim on the corner lot, "FOR RENT BY OWNER" scrawled across a sign hanging from the garage door. I veered off the main road and down the driveway to get a better look and write down the number written beneath.
Lou was only 3 months old. His baby gear, two bigger children's worth of stuff, an 80 pound black lab, and nearly 10 years of marriage's worth of stuff were crammed into a 3 bedroom apartment on the property I work at. We were busting at the seams and I was getting more and more desperate to find somewhere, anywhere, I wouldn't be noticed while trying to drink my coffee and walk the dog in the mornings. When I received the call back from the home owner, I about lost my mind at how little he wanted for rent in comparison to what others were paying for the same layout I was living in. The home had an enclosed "bonus room" built from the skeleton of the garage, 2 1/2 baths, gas stove, formal dining room, an enormous master bedroom... I was barely able to get the approval from my then Husband before I rushed back to the property to meet with the Home Owner. We decided in seconds that this was the home we'd be raising children in. With security deposits paid and utilities transferred, we were jingling keys before the month ended.
Now... nearly 4 years later, I sent a text off to the Home Owner telling him I'd like to sign a 9 month lease renewal as opposed to the 24 month I'd been signing as I thought maybe it was time for a change. I feel the change coming and regardless of whether or not I want it mentally, it's happening. He countered with an offer of 6 months as he'd been meaning to talk to me about it going on the market next Spring. My brain went to TV static. I stared at the text for a second and reread it multiple times to see if I'd read it right. Knowing that he'd need the home accessible to make necessary repairs before placing it on the market, knowing that we would possibly need to be out before school finishes... That changes things. I went to bed a few nights ago thinking of moving boxes, purging all the rooms, removing pictures and curtains I had LITERALLY just unpacked and hung post divorce... it's overwhelming and yet my OCD cannot wait to get started.
There's something comforting in compartmentalizing the shit you've accumulated both mentally and physically over your adult life and packing it away to be opened in your "future" home. I used to "drunk file" before kids ever came into the picture. I'd sit with my margarita, licking salty condensation off my fingers while having to close one eye just to focus on the tabs of the files clicking against each other in the cabinet. The metal on metal "whoosh" of the hangers nearly as intoxicating as the alcohol itself. And yes, I've always been this domestically lame. I wouldn't know how to drunk dial if my life depended on it.
So now I'm on the prowl for a new home, our home... a home to fill with laughter and love and light and peace and honesty. I'm still not sure if I'll ever own a home, being a single mother with three kids to provide for can cause mountains of debt and right now I'm trying to manage just the foothills in the hopes I can keep the mountain range from forming when I have my back turned to it. I want to own a home, one day. But for now I'd just like to know where that home will be and if we will make some sort of crazy leap of faith that is unlike me to all that know me.
Lou was only 3 months old. His baby gear, two bigger children's worth of stuff, an 80 pound black lab, and nearly 10 years of marriage's worth of stuff were crammed into a 3 bedroom apartment on the property I work at. We were busting at the seams and I was getting more and more desperate to find somewhere, anywhere, I wouldn't be noticed while trying to drink my coffee and walk the dog in the mornings. When I received the call back from the home owner, I about lost my mind at how little he wanted for rent in comparison to what others were paying for the same layout I was living in. The home had an enclosed "bonus room" built from the skeleton of the garage, 2 1/2 baths, gas stove, formal dining room, an enormous master bedroom... I was barely able to get the approval from my then Husband before I rushed back to the property to meet with the Home Owner. We decided in seconds that this was the home we'd be raising children in. With security deposits paid and utilities transferred, we were jingling keys before the month ended.
Now... nearly 4 years later, I sent a text off to the Home Owner telling him I'd like to sign a 9 month lease renewal as opposed to the 24 month I'd been signing as I thought maybe it was time for a change. I feel the change coming and regardless of whether or not I want it mentally, it's happening. He countered with an offer of 6 months as he'd been meaning to talk to me about it going on the market next Spring. My brain went to TV static. I stared at the text for a second and reread it multiple times to see if I'd read it right. Knowing that he'd need the home accessible to make necessary repairs before placing it on the market, knowing that we would possibly need to be out before school finishes... That changes things. I went to bed a few nights ago thinking of moving boxes, purging all the rooms, removing pictures and curtains I had LITERALLY just unpacked and hung post divorce... it's overwhelming and yet my OCD cannot wait to get started.
There's something comforting in compartmentalizing the shit you've accumulated both mentally and physically over your adult life and packing it away to be opened in your "future" home. I used to "drunk file" before kids ever came into the picture. I'd sit with my margarita, licking salty condensation off my fingers while having to close one eye just to focus on the tabs of the files clicking against each other in the cabinet. The metal on metal "whoosh" of the hangers nearly as intoxicating as the alcohol itself. And yes, I've always been this domestically lame. I wouldn't know how to drunk dial if my life depended on it.
So now I'm on the prowl for a new home, our home... a home to fill with laughter and love and light and peace and honesty. I'm still not sure if I'll ever own a home, being a single mother with three kids to provide for can cause mountains of debt and right now I'm trying to manage just the foothills in the hopes I can keep the mountain range from forming when I have my back turned to it. I want to own a home, one day. But for now I'd just like to know where that home will be and if we will make some sort of crazy leap of faith that is unlike me to all that know me.
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