Before you jump to attention and your phalanges quicken to congratulate me on my engagement, let me stop you right there. I am not engaged.
*Pause for collective sigh of disappointment*
Ok, now that that’s done, let’s get down to the real story of what’s going on.
I seem to be remiss in my blogging duties as of late. Though I would love to blame it on NaNoWriMo, I cannot, since I have written only 2100 words so far. Yet another project left unfinished. Talk about an unfinished life…
Anyhoo, I HAVE been quite busy doing other things besides sleeping and watching the boobtube. (Yay, me!) After two months of barely looking, and one week filled with house showings, we have come upon a most amazing house that shall be ours. It seems R is content with me enough to agree to purchase a real live home with me. (When I say “live”, what I actually mean is “alive with personality” not “alive with ghosts”. I have enough of those caged in my head.” )
The house we’ve found was once owned by a professor, which instantly boosts is on the cool-o-meter. It too, comes complete with a huge entryway, a closet big enough to house my entire shoe collection comfortably, three bathrooms so that all members of our little family may poop simultaneously, a fireplace and chimney large enough to allow Santa access, and a perfect spot to display a full-size mermaid statue. (I might mention here that one bathroom includes gnarly monkey and parrot safari wallpaper- I have not yet decided if this diminishes the rating on the cool-o-meter.)
I knew upon entrance to the house that it was surely the one for us, and my Rockstar seemed to agree with me, because despite his hesitance about purchasing a home for the first time ( all that yard work to do- even though I shall be the one more than willing to do it) he was quick to agree to making an offer. (With a little urging from me…no, I didn’t use my oral skills.)
The offer was accepted, contingent upon a home inspection and assessment. We had the home inspection tonight.
We arrived at our soon to be casa to find Mr. Inspector already finished with his business. Mr. Inspector was an adorable elderly gentleman who reminded me of Jolly Ol’ St. Nick, who was quick to point out the uniqueness of the place. He had brought with him his own folding chair to rest his considerable weight upon, which endeared him to me instantly. We ventured through the house, the whole while, Inspector St. Nick pointing out all the cool and unusual aspects of the house. When we were done, it was time to go over his findings and to write him a check. As I glanced through the first page of the report, I noticed my Rockstar’s name at the very top, and under it, my first name, followed in very small writing and parentheses “fiancée” I giggled when I saw it, and immediately put the report down.
It seems since I have begun telling people of our intentions of buying a house, most are quick to comment with “Oh, you know what’s coming next!” and “When are you getting married?”
It’s funny, because since we found this house, I haven’t once thought about that. I know I’ve blathered on in the past about “why won’t my Rockstar marry me?” and “Oh, what to do about my Rockstar not marrying me?”, but it seems the insecure Sparkle has disappeared, and has been replaced with one who really doesn’t give a fuck about that shit.
Whilst all my Facebook friends are posting non-stop about getting engaged, or getting married, or having babies, I have begun to realize that maybe my life is not about all that. Yes, I still wish for babies, but instead of being sad I haven’t any, I am more focused on teaching R’s Daughter that maybe she could be an artist when she grows up, or a baker, or a candlestick maker. I am more intent on becoming a published author than in years past, and now that we have found a house, I am excited to have a 2200 square foot canvas on which to express myself with art. If there are to be babies, or marriage, let them come- I’m not scared. But I’ll be even less not scared if they don’t come. And when I’m done tiling my mermaid bathroom in iridescent one-inch mosaic tiles, you can all come over and take a poo in it. XOXO