The art of hyperventilating. — Personal
I'm staring at this computer screen watching the cursor blink, blink, blink, on an empty field of white. It's waiting expectantly for my typing, the words that I think to tumble out with the tapping of the keys, saying, what? All I see is the cursor, it's pulsing with the rhythm of my heart beat, reminding me to breathe. I'm all worked up right now and trying not to hyperventilate, the best I could think to do is to use this form of expression as my distraction. It calms me. Evens me. And while my heart hasn't exactly caught up to the mellowing of my mind, I feel less explodey.
For the last two weeks Adam and I have been house hunting. Each morning we wake, silently suit up and drive out to the house on our list. There we sit, quietly waiting, plotting and planning, debating how best to make the hit. Do we use a high powered riffle and take out the windows first? Or go the unexpected route and use a butcher knife, striking first at the shrubs, taking it down with small shallow cuts. It's hard to hunt a house. They're quite big and you know they could take you out at any moment, if only they could move.
So, house hunting. As in looking for a house to "purchase" with fake bank money. It's kinda fun, it kinda sucks, it kinda puts a whole world of crazy shit into perspective. The whole, "What am I doing with my life" questions, and, "Is this what we really want" debates. All the while we're sifting through hundreds of sale listings, the majority of them being too expensive and the rest of them being in undesirable locations. That usually leaves us with just a handful. I have scoured the Internets and have a comparatively short list of possibilities given the thousands of houses on the market right now. Most days we look at one or two, sometimes three houses. Most of the houses have been "fixers" but I guess my definition of fixing is different than most. When I hear a house needs to be fixed I think carpet, maybe some paint, at most maybe fixing a hole in the wall or, I dunno, mowing. I keep a pretty orderly and well kept apartment so I admit my imagination of other people's living conditions is pretty limited. Much to my surprise most of these "fixers" need, um, well in my opinion lighter fluid and a match, or in other words too much TLC than I have to offer. So every house we've seen we've said no to, though the one with an in-ground pool and full leather bar in the basement DID make us stop and think, but ultimately its location on 129th St. killed its appeal when we considered that prostitutes and the mall would be our closest neighbors.
But yesterday was a little different. Yesterday, I fell in love (and Adam said, Yeah OK) with a house that smelled like sage and was painted in a hundred different colors. So today we made an offer, and currently we wait. We wait to see what the house's current occupants decide. Is it enough? Will they say yes? Or will they counteroffer or deny us altogether? It's the biggest cliffhanger of the year for us, and to say that I'm waiting patiently would be a bold faced lie. My skin is tingling, I can feel the blood rushing through my veins, creating a humming sensation that is rattling my fleshy windows. My heart is all a flutter, my mind is everywhere and nowhere at once, I am eager, impatient, hopeful, desperate, giddy, anxious, terrified, and excited. I suppose we will know soon, but either way it's really only the beginning, the beginning of the waiting and of the hoping and of the doing. But at least it's the beginning.
Addendum: They accepted our offer! So I guess this mean, we bought a house!
pictures! post pictures!!!
It's kinda like "waiting to jump", but the anxious tingling only last a second and bam, you're in your new house and life is good. Kudos to both of you on a successful hunt, I do need a dead house picture though. You know me, a successful hunt has pictures and a mount for the wall.
I'm so thrilled for you two. Adam doesn't get thrilled, and I get that, but this is a move that I get to live vicariously through you two for, and that makes it special. Because I am jealous of your ability to paint and have space, and I do not see us doing this anytime soon, if ever. Special because you're my person. Special because it's a major life commitment that makes so much of what little crap I fuss about everyday look small. Special because you're awesome, and your house will be awesome. Super duper congrats with cherries on top. Can't wait to help you move!
One peice of advice, just be patient and try to be flexible. I find that the hardest thing to do with all the unexpected twists, turns and fees you will now experience.
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