Eight days and counting

I am stressed. Turns out I'm not super great at handling it, either.

My poor insides have been tortured, twisting and churning and trying to make my very very unhappy. My stress-related IBS has flared, making life unpleasant. I'm tired. I'm irritable. I'm depressed. I NEED TO GET THIS HOUSE BUYING MADNESS OVER WITH!!

At least 75% of my recent stress is house-building and -purchasing related. The final walk-through and warranty wrap-up is tomorrow. But as of Tuesday we still didn't have a full-painted exterior, the sump pump in the basement wasn't working leading to standing water and a bit of mold, the powder room sink was ripped out due to a leak, the microwave hasn't been installed, the wrong kitchen island was installed, only half the window-coverings were in, someone spilled paint on the tile floor, we are missing a few heat registers and our inspector found a handful of minor issues that are easy to fix but still take time. All this is supposed to be completely finished by tomorrow at 11:00 am. If not, we have to do a SECOND walk through before the closing to make sure everything is finished.

To top it off, the damn mortgage company keeps asking for more stuff, or letters to explain previously-acquired information, to "finilize everything for write-off." Huh? Why not figure out everything you need from me and ask once instead of calling me three times a week and freaking me out?!!

And so, as you can see, the stressful two-week period before I buy a house is in full stressful bloom for all the world to see. And don't even get me started on packing.

This too shall pass. And when it does I will have a lovely home for many years to come. I need only to survive the next 10 days, the finishing and purchasing and packing and moving, and I will be fine. Fine fine fine. I just need to breathe. Sleep a little more. Eat more vegetables. And breathe again.

Now is the time for freaking out

HOLY FRIJOLES. People. I close on the new house in 16 days. I do the final walk-through in nine days. The inspector comes in six days. I start freaking out in zero days!

We have packed exactly three boxes. I know that most packing has to wait until the last few days, but it is hard to know that this entire house of belongings needs to be boxed up and moved in less than three weeks. The freezer! The bikes! The couch! Everything! I'm going to lose my mind.

We've settled on a paint scheme for the living/dining area. It is hard to imagine, but we're going with three large horizontal stripes in light chartreuse and dark grey. Evelyn's bedroom will be a high gloss midnight blue. The master bedroom is TBD.

When last I visited (Monday), everything was in except the kitchen counter, kitchen backsplash, window coverings, bathroom mirrors and medicine cabinets. Our yard-adjacent neighbors moved in last weekend, and with them a giant dog that can look right into our dining room from his dining room. They have a "Welcome" sign on their front door. It looks like a country broom. I have already judged them for that. (Yes.)

We were told our wall-adjacent neighbors are a fun young couple, the husband of which is an Air Force helicopter flying instructor. So far we've only seen one kid, and she is an 18-month old at the end of the courtyard. Considering one enormous factor in moving to this new neighborhood was to be engulfed with Evelyn-aged children, I am disappointed. Lots of young, childless couples that may start procreating in the next few years, but few that already have. Boo.

I've already started imagining my new life in my new neighborhood. I'll bike to the store! I'll bike to work! We'll take the dogs to the dog park, via bicycle! (Do you see a theme?) I've decided our family minivan will actually be an Xtracycle, and we'll become hipster bicycle enthusiasts, with handlbar mustaches and olde tyme tartan wool pants.

EDIT: This will be me.









I hope, really really hope, that this move turns out to be a good decision.