Welcome to the neighborhood…

Well, we had our first real homeowner issue Tuesday night.  Whodathunk that, exactly one week after signing the paperwork, JB and I would be standing outside (in the RIDICULOUS cold) terrified our house was going to blow up?  Long story short, we are fine and the house is fine.  It just took a few fire fighters and a gentleman from the gas company doing readings for carbon monoxide to reassure us.

While the fire engine was outside. lights blinking away in the pitch black of 5:30 pm, a few neighbors stepped outside to “check the mail” or “shovel the driveway.”  No one came up and outright asked what’s going on, but I guess Midwesterners are too formal for that.  Where I’m from, someone would have probably walked right up to us, introduced themselves (and probably invited us inside their home to warm up).  Once we got inside, they would have asked us a million questions about ourselves while simultaneously telling all the neighbors’ dirty secrets and offering us something to drink.

I was wondering when someone would notice the new young Black couple that just moved in.  I think I have my answer now.

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Welcome to the neighborhood…

Home

Guess what, y’all?

I’m a homeowner.

Due to my ridiculously slightly superstitious nature, I wanted to wait until things were certain before I made the big announcement.  It happened so quickly–it was only a few months ago that JB and I decided to start looking at houses–but the opportunity presented itself right way and we took it.  I once heard, “Good things happen slowly; great things happen all at once,” and hoped that mantra applied to the house we wanted to purchase.  After numerous phone calls, scanned documents, and trips to the bank, I signed a ton of papers and received a house in return.

I’m excited, relieved, and more than a bit terrified about all this.  Aside from moving to Wisconsin, this is the only “adult” decision I’ve ever really made.  There’s definitely the legal aspect of it to make it scary (30 year mortgage, taxes, home emergencies that I can’t call the landlord to fix now) but the idea of having a new “home” really freaked me out.  To me, “home” has always been Kentucky and the house where my mom lives.

Now I’ve got my own “home” which, in my mind, meant that my old home isn’t mine anymore.  Though I haven’t lived there in years, that house on Shady Lawn was the one place I knew I could always run to.  Now I’ve got something of my own to take care of, to take responsibility for.  I’ve got a place to build my own family and raise my own children…a place that is 8.5 hours away from the only place I’ve ever known and the people that mean the most to me.

So I guess it’s time for me to learn a new place.  My heart will always belong to Kentucky–no amount of time in the Midwest will change that–but after living in Madison for three years I can finally say that I like it enough to stay for a spell.  Y’all come visit anytime.  🙂

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