Adventure Awaits

 I have always tried to think of life as an adventure. I’m not a creature who likes change (probably because it’s usually forced upon me rather than something I’ve chosen), so I tend to struggle with it. 

It’s been about a month since we found out that we have to move— that our beloved landlord’s marriage has ended and so he is selling the townhouse we have lived in for the better part of a decade. Our plan was to start searching for a forever home after our wedding, and now this has sort of forced our hand to move before we are ready, which means finding a suitable rental for the in between time. 

I remember house hunting with a certain fondness. I’ve moved about 14 times in my life and most of it was within childhood. I recall my sister and I playing with paint samples and carpet samples, searching for attics or hidden passageways, climbing a great tree (“a liability”, my mum would say), or hoping for a huge yard of our own. 

Rose colored glasses of youth, because let’s be real— it kind of sucks. Now I understand the slightly harried frazzle of my mother as we searched, the things that we thought were cool I now just see as dollar signs. 

A few things I have noticed: it is the middle of a pandemic, and as such, people are charging astronomical prices— and they’re getting the money they ask for. Places are going like hot cakes and some of the ones we have really liked we haven’t even been able to see. I’ve become a veritable Goldilocks, unable to find the “just right” between modern conveniences like central air or, you know, closets, alongside old charm like built in bookshelves and crown moulding. 

It is maddening to me that people block off functional fireplaces. I didn’t really appreciate how attached I’ve grown to our fireplace until it occurred to me that our days with it are numbered. We have yet to find a place with a functioning fireplace. 

Another thing: what is the deal with the basement toilet?! I read an interesting article on the history of it, but it still doesn’t really explain why we haven’t since built bathrooms around these random toilets. 

I sort of have caviar taste on a burger budget, so I’m looking forward to the day we can create a space we love that is all ours, and we aren’t at the mercy of waiting for someone to paint the chipped paint or replace the missing posts on the unstained deck as they ask for $1900 a month for a place with no closets and no yard. 

I know a home is only as strong as its foundation, but also, as Annie Dillard said, “how we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives,” so the home where we spend the bulk of our time should be a safe, lovely, comforting place. You know, like where we are now. 

In the meantime, I will be praying for the perfect place to come along and hoping for the moment that makes us feel all yellow and glowy.