I am in my new home and trying to settle in as quickly as possible after what turned out to be a tremenduosly stressful move involving a cranky buyer, creepy lawyer, and slippery real estate agent. I’m glad to know the worst is over and that I’m now inhabiting a quieter, freer, more peaceful abode. I’m thankful for that. But I’d be lying if I said that this long process has been one big cushy bed of roses. It’s been more like a dank, smelly mire.
After I sold my condo and closed on the new house, I was quickly overwhelmed (terrified) by the massive amount of work the new home is going to need to bring it up to standard. Although I was quite aware that I’d need to put some elbow grease into the new house to make it a comfortable home, it didn’t really sink in until after the move was complete exactly how much work would be required. That’s the funny thing about buying a home (especially an older home) in a frantic seller’s market—after you have the keys, you might see the place in an entirely different light.
Before the closing, there was so much to deal with in terms of paperwork, negotiating, arranging movers, and trying to keep up with work, that nothing really registered for me until after the move. And when it did finally sink in, I fell fast into a mean red funk (a condition more commonly described as buyer’s remorse). I wandered from room to room wondering what the hell was I thinking? I made a list of all the things that needed fixing or buying or disinfecting before I could feel comfortable in this place. It was one long list, let me tell you. After a while, I just threw it away because it was freaking me out.
Fortunately, I’m over that dreadful stage now and am moving forward with resolve. I made a new, more level-headed list of the fixes and improvements that will need to be done when the time comes. But first I must unpack, clean, sort, and settle in. And I must see the good in all of this, because it is there. It just requires that I select the correct perspective and adjust my attitude. In the immortal words of Winston Churchill, I must KBO: Keep Buggering On.