well, there are MANY updates waiting to happen- don’t worry, i’ve kept a list of all the goings on so you won’t miss out on all the shenanigans.
BUT: the biggest update:
I BOUGHT A FUCKING HOUSE!
that’s right- me, the gypsy, the girl who has moved 11 times in 11 years (soon that will be 12 for 12). the girl who swore buying a home was not in any plan in any future in any way.
A HOUSE. a real house. a 1901, covered front porch, back deck, 4 bedroom, 2 bathroom, dining room with a small bay, purple kitchen HOUSE.
i’m still a fuck-ton scared of it. i mean- this means if the water heater shits out _I_ have to replace it. if there’s a leak in the roof _I_ have to repair it. when the lawn needs mowed...well, you can bet your fucking panties i’m calling someone else to do that last one. but it’s MINE. i can knock out walls or rearrange the kitchen (both of which i’m planning). i can PAINT it, rip up carpet, dance nekkid, ANYTHING I FUCKING WANT TO.
but. you know me. for every good there has to be a wrench in the works...here it is:
i called my brother the other day to wish him a happy birthday and he mentioned that one of his friends had let him know i bought a house. why hadn’t i let him know myself? well, because i knew something like this would happen. i’m chatting along, telling him a little about the house, how i’m nervous to buy it, how it’s a TON of money to spend all at once, and he drops this bomb:
“well, it’s not like it’s your money anyway.”
yes, asshole. i realize it’s not _my_ money. i realize i did not earn this money, this is not a nest egg that i saved up for years to make a purchase like this. i realize that this is my fucking lottery ticket. LUCKY FUCKING ME. you fucking asshole. i’m damn well aware of where this money came from. and, more than anything, that makes me extra nervous to spend it because i means that much more to me. i’m that much more on alert about buying a house my dad would be proud of. he always said he wished he could buy me a house and take care of me, and now he’s doing it. i want to make sure to pick out the best house i fucking can and make the best use of the money he left me. it’s been a HUGE pressure to me to not let my dad down. i realize that this is death money. i realize that several people died to provide me this opportunity. i’m more than well aware of that fact EVERY. FUCKING. DAY.
i remember more than once when my dad helped me move he would just shake his head and look around and be SO UPSET looking at the places i was going to call home. more than once he chewed my ass for picking a place he thought wasn’t up to his standard. he was always worried about me having a nice roof over my head. this is his way of taking care of me. it’s a shitty fucked up way, but it’s happening. and i want to make damn sure that it’s one he would approve of. in my head i know he’s still skeptical. he’s a dad. i know he would be looking around, poking at things, worried about something or other falling apart on me. but i also know that he would be so proud that i’m giving my boys a place of their own. i know that after the last two moves he learned to trust me that i can take ANY place and make it a good home for my spawns.
“it’s not like it’s your money.”
FUCK YOU. fuck you for shitting on such a big event for me. fuck you for not realizing how much time and thought and emotion i’ve put into this. i know it’s not what he wanted me to do with the money so therefore it must be the wrong choice. i know i was supposed to not quit my job, invest in college for the kids, make smart decisions.
WELL GUESS WHAT: THESE ARE FUCKING SMART DECISIONS. and they’re the RIGHT decisions for me. NOTHING can replace time with my kids. nothing can replace having a whole summer with them. NOTHING can replace giving them their own spaces to OWN. they won’t have to move again. they won’t have to share a room. they can decorate, paint, make it THEIRS. i never had that when i was a kid. sure, my mom bought a house, but i wasn’t allowed to decorate it or put up things i wanted or make it my own space- i want that for my kids. i want the quintessential hollywood kids room with wacky paint and posters all over the wall and a mess that keeps you from seeing the floor. i want them to have ownership and security.
and i ran out of steam about half way through that.
brass tacks: it’s the RIGHT FUCKING DECISION FOR ME. IT’S A GOOD DECISION FOR MY KIDS. i am damn well aware of where the fucking money came from. i’m well fucking aware of how it isn’t really mine, and i’m making the smartest use of it that i can. i KNOW, hands down, that my dad would be proud of me for doing this.
back to the excitement:
I BOUGHT A HOUSE! i’m writing the check out for it today and i will OWN it, free and clear! i’m so excited