The reason for the rather inexcusable and lengthy pause in my work on the Blahg is:
My new house.
New as in brand spanking new. As in no one else has ever lived there before new.
I love it.
We decided to move the family out to a 1.8 acre plot of land in Michigan, a mile and change from the Big Lake, with woods and a boat dock.
“Why Michigan?’ you might ask. Well, the answer is simple. I love it here. Have since I was a little girl. It has trees and lakes and fishing and all the things I want to do and none of the traffic or shootings.
We looked at houses. We looked at land. Finally Tammy, Sparkly Realtor Extraordinaire, said “I know the lot you want.”, and took us to see the one in the above picture. She introduced us to our contractors, and after much number crunching and soul searching we realized that this was where we wanted to be.
Our Rock Star Contractors started digging the Big Hole on May 7th. We moved in on August 27th. For all of you counting on your fingers that is a new house, from top to bottom, in a hair less than 4 months. Now you understand why they are Rock Stars…
You might think to yourself “Wow. That would have been a great thing to follow along with on the Blahg.” Sure, maybe it would have been, if the stress of moving and building and dealing with other crap that shall remain nameless hadn’t resulted in my hair falling out in clumps and my Doctor being so concerned about my weight loss she rain actual tests.
It was going to be tight, but the Contractors assured us that they would at least have us on the driveway in the camper in time for school to start. They had until Labor Day weekend to make my Craftsman style walk-out-basement ranch a reality.
This meant that from the day we handed over our good faith deposit, we have been making decisions. Which house plans should we buy? Where should we orient it on the lot? What color should the siding/roof be? Do we want gutters? Should we use stone on the exterior? Do we want a fireplace? Any walls we want moved? Where should the outlets go? What color outlets? Floors, faucets, cabinets, countertops, appliances, light fixtures, closet rods, tile, paint, doors, doorknobs, hinges, drawer pulls…EVERYTHING that is now in your house, I had to pick out for mine.
Not that the DH and I were alone in this. I had all my besties around me making sure I had Diet Cokes and just enough guilt over leaving to feel loved. I had the Terrors, who asked everyday if the house was ready. I had my Mom and Dad, giddy that the Terrors would now be within day-trip distance. But in the end, none of them were going to pick out my backsplash (although my Friend Who Hates Hoodies did help with the paint colors).
Emails from the Contractor would drop into my inbox and I would die a little inside. “I just finalized plumbing fixtures! What more do you want from me!!!!” I would send a complete list of something only to have Scott reply gently reminding me about the 8 things I had forgotten. Hell, I’m still making decisions: what color for the front door…?
For all that had to get done, it went off remarkably smoothly. Sure, there were little things here and there, but in the end, the stairs ended up in the right place, the cabinets all made it to their spots in the right color, and they are sending a replacement fridge for the one that won’t hold a temp less than 40 degrees. Looking back, some of the things that went wrong are the ones that will give me the greatest giggles…the virility of my ice maker being one of the best (long story).
Of course, now I am completely spent. The guy from Directv wanted to know if we wanted to change anything about our programming and I almost started to cry. Its a yoga pants/hoody parade over here because picking out clothes is beyond me. I even find it hard to summon the will to pick out something for dinner, though the DH might say that has been an ongoing issue, not something caused by decision fatigue.
We have been here for about a month now. You still can’t see the top of the dining room table, but you can see all the floors. We have most of the window treatments up. All the kids have beds and radios and alarm clocks in their fancy new rooms. Everyone allowed to see the basement (after being supplied with a satellite phone and flares) gets a good laugh at our expense out of the amount of crap down there, but Rome wasn’t built in a day, dammit. And while we are rearranging the kitchen for the 3rd time, our house now suddenly very much feels like our home.
So, I’m hoping to write some more, start to revise the Novel? again, and keep all of you in the loop about moving from the big city to a town of less than 1,000 full time residents.
Oh, and I am expecting visitors. Lots and lots of visitors…