Last night we picked up the keys for the new house. I drove down our driveway, and we walked around the now empty house and for the first time it really felt like ours. It was great. We poked and prodded and discussed what we were going to put where. I wish we could just magically transport everything there overnight and start living there full time.
Here’s the weird thing, though: Normally I’m the pessimistic one, and it’s Vicki’s natural optimism that gets me through the day. But as we were going through the house, and especially on the drive back to our soon-to-be-ex-house, I had to keep reassuring Vicki that this is the right thing and we’re going to be so happy here. I was bubbling with enthusiasm, but Vicki was crying. That’s not right.
Even stranger was that we were looking at some of the things that need fixing, and future projects, and I was even enthusiastic about them. Normally me and spending money on household projects, or even worse, working on household projects go together like pure sodium and water. Ok, bad analogy – I don’t explode, I wince at the expense and try everything I can to avoid the work. So maybe we go together like oil and water. But I found myself actually getting enthused at the prospect of taking this beautiful period house and making it more period and more beautiful, and maybe a little bit more comfortable at the same time.
I hope I can convince Vicki that this is going to be a good thing. I know I’m convinced. Except for moving out of the Rupert house when Shani kicked me out, I can’t think of a single move I’ve done that wasn’t an improvement in my life, and which I didn’t look forward to before hand and be glad of afterwards (at least until it was time to move again.)
I can so fully sympathize with both of you. When we moved in July 2002, if was from a tiny fixer-upper (about whom I had massive doubts when we bought it in 1997) to a huge Colonial that we plan to be in for many many years. When I first saw it, I knew “this is the one I want.”
But when we closed and took possession of the keys, that buyer’s remorse kicks in. Combine that with leaving behind a place that had become home — even if it was a small 1000 square foot home with no closets and a hideous pink bathroom — and the stress of having to pack everything up and get it moved, and the emotions overwhelm the rationality.
Vicki loves this new house. And she will be very happy there, once the leaving is over with, and the packing and unpacking are done.