Friday, April 19, 2013

Moved. Well, to be precise, in the process of moving.

This is our first week staying at our apartment. It has a reputation for being very safe. It is also a little old. But safety first, right? It's not so bad. Just pretty dated. I could also do without the spiders. I think this has to do with it being old and the lovely trees and greenery on the grounds. Nature attracts nature, yes? I wasn't being sarcastic, though. The trees and plants make this apartment quite nice and make up for the antiquity of the apartment itself. But every day one of us is killing a spider. It's almost become a game of "Find the spider" except I really dislike spiders. So it's not so much of a game as an irritating issue. But safety first! I can deal with pesky bugs if it means my home and vehicles aren't going to be effed with.
I admit it, the first day spent at this apartment, I cried. Up until this point, I had very little emotional attachment of our home. I appreciated it and adored it but I hadn't shed a tear during this entire process.
I found myself getting very sentimental. We had a beautiful first home. Truly.
I've learned that home really is where the heart is. At the end of the day, I want to be where The Man & The Bun are which is in this very cozy (I'm learning the code words in real estate. Cozy = tiny, historic = old, etc.) apartment.
I pray we've made the right decision. I think we have but this whole housing market is like gambling. It's next to impossible to sell high and buy low. What we hoped to achieve was to buy sell low and buy low. But every day the damn news is talking about how housing prices are going up. I try to pep talk myself and say that's what they were reporting when we were selling our home and we still had to sell for less than what we bought. My pep talk also includes the fact that while we sold $10,000 less than what we bought, it is far less than what we would have paid for rent these past four years.
I have so many memories of our family's first home. But I felt compelled to save the photos my realtor  took, just so I can remember how blessed we were. Still are. And pray that we will find the perfect home for us. Permanently, I hope. Because moving is a pain in the ass. (Yes, I realized I talked about praying and uttered "ass" in the same paragraph but it's who I am - a flawed yet spiritual individual. So. Yah.)










It was such a sweet home, all nice and new. I look at these photos and think, "My gosh, our home was beautiful." I don't think we took it for granted but, as we were moving, I became nostalgic. In the end, though, it wasn't for us anymore. We have to find a home that is suitable for our aging parents, nearly school-aged daughter ... basically, a house/condo/whatever we can call our forever home. Truth be told, though, when I kept hearing how home prices are going up, I told The Man that we should eff it - take the money we got from the sale, move to Hawaii and live in an apartment there. Shockingly enough, he did not find this to be a viable solution.