Our closing is scheduled for two weeks from today. In 14 days, the boy and I will become homeowners...which in all honesty scares the shit out of me. I was thinking about this last night...I've moved approximately every 8 months for about the last 5 years. The longest I've stayed in one place is 9 1/2 months. And here I am, about to commit to one house... one street...one neighborhood for at least 5 years. Bring out the paper bag!
But on the topsy turvy side, I'm ridiculously excited about putting a chunk of my paycheck into something that will one day reward me with a little equity and hopefully a profit, rather than blowing chunks after Max's on a Friday night. God knows our out of control bar nights are going to be less frequent with a mortgage now.
Anyway, two weeks and we get the keys to the new place-if all goes well. And we've yet to pack one thing. We have a pile of crap hanging out in our dining room (from Christmas) that we neglected to find a home for and clothes scattering our room that belong on hangers, in drawers etc. I'm assuming I'm mentally preparing for the move. We packed overnight when we moved into this place/shithole. We took the day off and surrounded ourselves with newspapers, cotton exchange (reminds me of granny panties) boxes and a sharpie and packed into the wee hours of the morning. I'm guessing with our track record history will repeat itself and we'll be packing the night before our big move.
Bring on the paint brushes, blue moon, and some good tunes. Damn I wish I could find my ipod...
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