Well, I’m 99.9% sure I bought a house … it doesn’t seem quite real. But it must be, because the agent has sent me a text saying: “Congratulations!”
How do I feel?
Kinda weird. I cried all the way to the agent’s office with the cheque. I’ve been trying to analyse what made my eyes leak, and I think it was because it felt so BIG and I was doing it alone.
So they may have been feeling-sorry-for-myself tears.
It doesn’t help that I have PMT and I’m still feeling poorly with some bug thing. (I am sitting in front of the computer with a nasty headache and snotty nose wondering whether I really have a sculpt class in me at 9.30am.)
I think there may have been a certain release of tension involved with the tears. It had been a pretty high stress day, what with hopping on a train to Marrickville to sign the contract with my solicitor, attempting to transfer the funds for the deposit electronically, realising at 3.55pm that I couldn’t because it waaaaaaaay exceeded my daily limit, searching for my nearest branch so I could get a bank cheque, discovering that banks close at 4pm (what a quaint concept!), running through the streets to the bus stop so I could dash home and search my house for an old personal cheque book, no buses coming, throwing myself in a cab for an expensive ride home and seeing my bus finally glide to the stop from out the window, frantically turning the study upside down looking for the bloody cheque book … then making the teary drive to the agent.
Have I mentioned there’s a tension “brick” that sits in my chest pretty much all the time? Sometimes it feels like it’s made of styrofoam, sometimes it feels like it’s made out of … whatever bricks are made of (what exactly are bricks made of?).
When it gets really heavy, I don’t breath. Well, not enough.
Yesterday was a house brick sort of day … but then again, I was buying a house. The metaphor works on so many levels.
The kids are thrilled. They love the house and they’re sick of the searching. It has a lovely, sunny backyard and the eldest is saving up to build a “Davo” in it. The “Davo” is a cute little cabin we’ve seen online, which it’s own ensuite. I’ve explained it’s going to take her a while on $5 pocket money a week. So she’s going to spend some of the pocket money on Scratchies … I’m still not sure that will do the trick.
We get the keys on December 5, but won’t move until the January. It will give me time to paint the walls, polish the floor. The kids want to go there on weekends to plant things. A friend is promising to bring me finger limes. I’ve always wanted finger limes. They go very nicely in a vodka, lime and soda.
The house is on a busy road, and that worries me, but I think I’ve done the right thing.
I think I have.
I just wish I wasn’t doing it alone.
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
Right. Better get on with filling out those loan application forms …
Song of the day: John Mayer “Who says”