Our home. She's a beauty at 100, and has seen more combinations of owners, renters, roommates, tenants, tenants with boyfriends, tenants with cousins, tenants with guests who promise to leave on Sunday, then an ever swinging thirty minute hotel lobby receptionist. For the past two years we've been busting at the seems in our character filled home. With it's non insulated walls and a kitchen which makes Harry Potter's bedroom feel like trump tower, she has her faults.
But...she's our home.
And good to us she's been. A home where our children were born. A home full of memories. A home with square footage amounts of emotional attachment unmeasurable.
Brian and I have been debating the "should we move" question now for some time. We'd drive by for sale signs, park in front of the questionable home and ask ourselves if we could live here. How's the neighbourhood? Could we picture the boys running around this yard? Could we live this far from downtown? And when we'd spot a home of promise we'd often find ourselves disappointed upon entering. Kitchens were too small, yards were nonexistent, not enough bedrooms, too many bedrooms.
And, after endless hours of house hunting, we realized that the home we were hunting for was ours.
This "ah ha" moment translated into meetings with these guys. Meetings turned to ideas. Ideas to blueprints. Blueprints to dotted lines. Dotted lines to holy hannah are we doing this? Holy hannahs to "yup." And here we are. Still the proud owners of our beloved home with plans to give this 100 year old gal the makeover she deserves.
And one hell of a mortgage.
until next time - ABCD