On Being Terrified
We are really buying a house. As in, the sellers have agreed and the attorneys have agreed and the mortgage company has agreed, and in two months all of that theoretical responsibility will become actual payments and repairs and dusting and scrubbing and neighbors we're stuck with for the foreseeable future. And that heart-and-mind commitment we've made to each other will become bricks-and-mortar too. And I thought getting the family plan on our cell phones was a pretty big deal.
The fireplace and the deck and the view of the hills in the distance, the setting up our books on new shelves and walking to the post office, the Thai restaurant or the tattoo parlor are all things that calm the palpitations a bit. The writing checks toward an end, instead of a black hole, and the building something together, something we've chosen together--these are things I've wanted for a long time. But after a decade of renting (and seven different apartments, and eleven different roommates) and a longer list of relationships that fizzled out before I got comfortable calling someone 'boyfriend,' I'm actually facing these things that I've wanted and getting these things that I've wanted and it is new, and overwhelming.