A House is not a Home without You

We got the house. Finally.

The problem with that is that I've been so busy packing, cleaning, painting, unpacking, reorganizing and buying stuff that I've become terribly unsociable and grumpy and tired and generally unlikeable.

But after working 8 hour+ days at work, running to our multi, changing, throwing together some boxes, running them all down 3 floors, packing up my car, driving to the new house, unloading those boxes from my car and then painting, cleaning and generally tiring myself out until about 10pm when we go back to the multi, shower, sleep on an air mattress because all of our other furniture is at the new house and repeat. I know, I know, I signed myself up to this. But it's really exhausting and to describe it would be pointless because it's just a haze.

My mom's been worried about my constant g0, go, go and thinks I'm making myself sick. She doesn't even know I've been skipping lunch, consuming nothing but coffee all day long and then gobbling down sandwiches or whatever other garbage for dinner so I don't pass out from lack of nutrients. I didn't even TELL her and she apparently knows. It must be some kind of mom intuition. She can read me like a book. On the bright side? Maybe one day I'll wiggle into those size zero jeans before I keel over and die.

But we accomplished a lot. The floors on the first floor were sanded and poly-ed (by professionals). Plumbers came in and moved the shower on the first floor to the second floor. The jacuzzi on the second floor to the third floor. And they hooked up the gas line in preparation for my new gas ranges. (Which have not been delivered yet due to some snow related delays.) Trevor, my dad and Devin worked off and on, on the floor in the side-apartment of the new house. Carpet folks came in and redid the upstairs of the side-apartment. Kelly scrubbed a lot of shower stalls from a green moldly color back to their original white and swept and mopped a lot of dust bunny ridden floor. Many trips were made to Home Depot. And we covered the hideous pepto pink in The Great Room with a slightly less hideous yellow that I thought would be more gold but surprised me by being rather vividly yellow. It makes the room look sunny so I can't complain too much.

The house? Well, I have a hard time describing it without sounding like a pompous weirdo. In fact, when my husband describes it I almost want to flinch in embarrassment because it's really not that special and it's not that extraordinary. It's just really, really big and it's previous owners were apparently related to Liberace because they had a serious hard-on for chandeliers. I've possibly never seen more chandeliers in one place than I have in my own home. It's a little strange to think I'm that person because we just happened to fall into this house at a good time. It's not like we desperately needed another home under our belt.

And in a way I'm a little ashamed that we've done all this because I'm sure it must incite a flicker of jealousy. I don't think anyone should be jealous of us because we're breaking our backs working on this place and we'll probably be sacrificing every weekend for the next few years renovating, cleaning, moving furniture around...etc. Obviously we've already started playing musical bathrooms moving around tubs and shower stalls. It's a heck of a lot of physical labor. We're not rich enough to just hire contractors to do it all for us either. This is very much a labor of love. We didn't even have money for real movers like Trevor originally promised because the actual house and all the things we needed to purchase ate up the moving funds. The Boston contingent of our family came and helped move big furniture Trevor thankfully did not expect me to help him move. My mom and dad and bonus mom came to paint. Most of the time it's just me and Trevor but I'm rather happy to see the outpouring of familial support. It makes me feel like this is a family's home. It's not just a box that we happen to reside in, it's a place people actually want to come together.

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