AAAAAAHHHHH!

Last Friday night, I spotted a new house on the market during one of my frequent and obsessive Zillow searches.  I flipped through the pictures and it was adorable.  The house had obviously recently been re-done and everything from the paint colors to the kitchen cabinets to the backsplash made my heart happy.  I want to be best friends with whoever lives there, because we are clearly kindred spirits.  I wouldn't change 98% of their choices.  It was too late to add it to the list of houses we saw last week, but I was chomping at the bit to see it immediately.

 

It was the first house we saw on Saturday and it did not disappoint.  It's small and cozy but it suits our needs for this time in our life perfectly.  Not soon after we walked in, Joe and I started exchanging looks and nodding at each other.  We went along to see the three other houses we had lined up that day, but nothing compared.  So we made an offer!

 

I say that like it was no big deal but the whole way to meet our agent for coffee to write it up, I was freaking out.  What if we lose our jobs?  What if one of us gets sick?  What if we buy it and the inspector misses something and then we learn it has rats and termites and the furnace blows up and we can't afford to fix any of it?  Are we sure this is it?  It's a little further out from our ideal location and the street it's on is sort of busy and maybe we should keep looking?  And maybe there's not enough storage?  What if we outgrow it too quickly?  Living in this tiny, cramped apartment isn't so bad now that I think about it, you know.  We can keep living here for years and never worry about any of these issues!

 

I really haven't ever felt truly settled in my whole life.  We moved a lot when I was a kid and I've never lived in the same house for longer than 6 years.  Other than that exception, I don't think I've ever lived in the same place for more than two years.  Since college, I've moved 7 times.  Even though it's what I've always wanted, the idea of being settled is making me feel unsettled.

 

Not soon after we made our offer, we got a call from our agent that there was another offer on the house, so we bumped our offer up a bit and waited.  Saturday night, we got a counteroffer, which we accepted.

 

And then we waited.  We didn't know if they countered both offers or just ours. 

Then at about 9:00 last night, our agent called to say they accepted our offer!  Then there was a bunch of stuff about interviewing home inspectors and down payments and contracts and stuff I wrote down but didn't really process because $$$$ and what does that mean and this is too fast and holy crap and such. 

 

This feeling of being terrified and excited at the same time?  Adulthood, apparently.

If you need me, I'll be the adult cowering the corner breathing into a paper bag.

Spring Sneaks

I love winter like leprechauns love gold.  I love winter as much as I love holiday-themed analogies.

 

When everyone else is cursing the snow and damning the cold and wishing for spring, I am holding out hope for one last snow storm and a few more weeks of cozy scarves, gloves, and coats.  However, this winter has been so brutally cold and so seemingly endless, that even I'm starting to get a little excited for warmer weather. 

 

Actually, not so much warmer weather but the cute things warmer weather allows.  Basically online shopping is making me want spring to get here so I have an excuse to buy things.  Keds for Kate Spade, as an example.  Like most young ladies of my generation, I rocked my spotless white Keds with my side pony and neon bicycle shorts with the best of them.  These make me nostalgic for the past and excited for the spring.  I can't pick a favorite.

 

First

This past weekend, we celebrated our first wedding anniversary.  We went back to the Inn where we got married and stayed in the same room where we spent our wedding night.  I had been dreaming about the beautiful claw foot bathtub and Joe had not stopped talking about the huge marble steam shower with the magical water pressure that makes you wonder if you've ever really been this clean before.  So basically we were most excited about the bathroom. 

It's weird for hotel room to feel like home, but I love everything about that room.  It's so cozy and warm and beautiful.  It's where I put my wedding dress on and where my bridesmaids and I shared a toast and where we prayed together before the ceremony and my wedding dress hung there and I stood here to put on my earrings and my mom zipped me up right there.

We took our shower and bath, respectfully, and got dressed up for dinner downstairs in the Inn's gorgeous restaurant.  As a surprise for Joe, I asked the pastry chef at the Inn who made our wedding cake to re-create the top tier for anniversary dessert.  After our wedding, Joe was so disappointed we didn't get any cake leftovers to bring home and I totally forgot to ask that the top tier be saved for us.  So this was my way of making it up to him.  Vanilla spice cake with lemon mousse.  He was very pleased. 

Then, instead of the bill for dinner, we were brought this:

 

How lovely is that?  That's the thing about this Inn - I feel so loved and taken care of and soul comforted when I'm there.  It's a special little piece of the world that is nothing but blessings.  And a big part of the reason why is my dad. 

 

The morning after our wedding, we hit a bit of a rough patch that threatened to take the wind right out of my just married sails.  When we went to check out of our room, I could not find our room key anywhere.  I could have sworn I put it in my coat pocket, but it was nowhere to be found.  Joe tore the hotel room apart looking for it and then headed outside to retrace my steps to and from the car.  Meanwhile, I was told that the 50% deposit I thought I'd paid for the room months ago hadn't processed and instead of half the room charge I anticipated, I now owed the whole thing.  While I desperately searched through my phone trying to find the e-mail I thought I had gotten confirming prior payment, the event manager came to find me to give me the alcohol bill for the wedding.  We had opted to pay on consumption because we only had 48 people at the wedding and I was sure we'd come out better that way than paying in advance for an open bar for all.  I seriously underestimated how much people drink at weddings.  So not only was the bill way more than I expected, but they also wanted payment before we left.  I had figured they would invoice me and I'd have some time to get another paycheck before I had to pay up.  I had figured wrong.

 

So there I was newly married, keyless, with a hotel bill double the size, and an alcohol bill that was more than my wedding flowers and wedding dress combined, and no immediate way to pay for it all.  I was fighting back tears while I walked to the Inn's casual dining restaurant where my dad and his wife, Jamie, were waiting for us to join them for brunch.  I explained why I was upset and without hesitating for a moment my dad and Jamie handed over a credit card and saved the day.  They made everything ok.  A wonderful moment filled with love and relief and gratitude which I was reminded of when the waiter brought that card to our table this weekend.  Thanks, dad, for everything.  You really know how to make a girl's day.

 

Oh, the key turned out to have fallen through a hidden hole in my pocket and was inside the lining of my coat.  Don't ask me how long we looked for it before I finally figured that out.

 

After dinner, we headed back up to our room, lit a fire in the fireplace, toasted Prosecco with our wedding champagne flutes, snuggled up to watch Ghost Adventures, and woke up to breakfast in bed (we'll skip the part where I tripped carrying the tray to the bed and spilled the orange juice all over the beautiful bedding and then apologized profusely to the innkeeper while still in my pajamas as he graciously bundled it all up and reassured me not to worry - mornings at the Inn are apparently not our most magical hour).

I can't believe it's been a year already.

 

Sometimes I look at my husband and try to reassure myself, "don't think of it as forever, think of it as just until one of us dies," and sometimes I look at him and think, "oh my gosh, only forever, I miss you already." 

 

Either way, whatever the moment, even when I maybe want to kill him a little, there is no place I would rather be than in this life with him.

 

May these forever be our views across the table.

 Happy first, Joey.

He Also Pronounces Givenchy as "Guh-ven-chee"

While watching the E! Fashion Police Oscars show:

...and Amy Adams in Gucci couture...

Joe:  Gucci and couture?  When did those two designers merge?

I'm just going to let the awesomeness of that comment stand alone.

Women of a Certain Age

I didn't have a single episode all February long, but I spent the first two nights of March struggling to breathe.  My chest tightens and it feels like someone has tied rubber bands around my lungs.  No matter how hard I try to suck in breath, I can't get enough.  I start to wheeze and there's a wet cough, but I never cough anything up.  It lasts for hours.  Sunday night, I was afraid to go to sleep.  What if my body can't get enough air while I'm sleeping and just gives up?  What if I have an apnea episode and just stop breathing? 

 

Eventually, I fell asleep and when I woke up...clear lungs.  Like nothing had ever been wrong.  Except that my neck, back, and chest were sore after hours of the intense labor that had been required to draw breath. 

 

Joe has been telling me to see our doctor for weeks, but who has the time?  I had episodes almost weekly through January, but not a single one in February.  I was also hesitant because I didn't see the point given that most of the time I'm just fine.  If I went in with perfectly clear lungs, what would they really be able to tell me?  Like the trip I took to the emergency room in December.  By the time they ran all their tests, I was breathing fine and there was nothing to see.

 

I called my doctor today and the secretary asked me why I wanted the appointment.  "I'm, um, having difficulty breathing.  Sometimes."  "We can see you today at 3:20."  "Today?  Really?"  "Yes.  You're having trouble breathing?" 

 

Oh, right.  Most normal people find that alarming and would assume you would want to immediately correct that situation and not suffer for 5 months.  Silly me.

 

I saw the doctor.  He listened to me describe all the symptoms for about 5 minutes before asking me if I'd ever had asthma as a child.  Nope.  No asthma, no allergies, no anxiety disorders.  Not ever. 

 

"Well, it can happen at any time.  I have diagnosed several women in the last few months in their 30s and 40s who never had asthma before."

 

With that statement, I ruled out the possibility that it was simply anxiety.  Because if it had been, that comment would have sent me over the edge.  Who are you calling a woman in her 30s or 40s, doctor?  I have been 30 for a mere two months.  Let's not get ahead of ourselves, thankyouverymuch.  I am a mere two months away from 29 and a whole 9 years and 10 months away from 40.  Just so we're clear. 

 

He explained that asthma varies in severity and the triggers also vary.  For instance, the two most recent episodes I've had have been after I've dusted or cleaned a particularly dusty bookcase.  He also explained that it's worse in the winter, because you're cooped up in the house with doors and windows closed, which means you're exposed to higher levels of dust and dust mites and pet dander, etc. 

 

He said he could refer me out for a pricey asthma test or he could just give me a rescue inhaler and see if it works.  Works for me!

 

I took a test puff today so he could show me how to use it, and it already felt like things loosened up a bit. 

 

So now this after seeing an accountant for the first time on Friday to prepare our taxes and meeting with our real estate agent for the first time on Saturday to look at houses, thirty is certainly coming on a little strong.  As in, dude, we just met, back the hell up.

And Another Thing...

You know what else really sticks in my craw? 

 

People who only take one half of a doughnut at work and leave the other half in the box presumably for the next crazy person who comes along and only wants one half of the same doughnut.  Who are you kidding?  Eat the whole doughnut.  Firstly, if you're going to do something, then fucking DO IT.  Don't half ass it.  It's about respect.  Second of all, no one wants the other half of the doughnut your grimy fingers have been all over while you sliced the thing in half.  It's gross and unnecessary.  Same goes with the bagels.  Don't even get me started on the people who only take a quarter. 

 

Next, ladies who hover over the toilet in public restrooms.  You know why toilet seats have a bad reputation and are covered in urine?  Because of the ladies who hover, splash all over the seat, and then don't wipe it up after themselves.  YOU ARE THE PROBLEM, NOT THE SOLUTION.  If we could all just agree to sit, there would be no disgusting remnants on the seat.  If you must hover because you mistakenly think that there is some disgusting, mysterious, contagious disease that is spread by ass cheeks, then do it properly.  Squat as close to the seat as possible without touching it, aim, and HOLD STILL until your stream is complete.  For the love of humanity. 

 

Lastly, and most craw-sticking, the lady who talks on her cell phone during her entire pedicure.  I came here to relax, not hear every maddening detail about how Dave doesn't keep his promises.  When I get my nails done, my phone goes on silent and goes away.  It's as much for me as it is for the people around me.  It's me time.  Not me, you, and Dave time.  Dave totally sucks though and you being 30 minutes into this conversation without yet reaching that conclusion makes me super dislike you all the more. 

 

I am 30 now and very cantankerous. 

Cranky

I know there are people out there with actual problems of significant magnitude, but I want to forget about those people for just a minute and indulge in a self-important rant about things that have little to no import in the grand scheme of things.  Okay, great.

 

I called yesterday and renewed our lease for another month.  We are currently on a month-to-month lease term because the idea of committing to this apartment for more than one month at a time is more than I can take.  We have been diligently saving and paying down debt so that we can put ourselves in the best position to qualify for a mortgage and start our house hunt.  I would like to buy a house yesterday. 

 

I want a washer/dryer.  We live in an apartment complex with many different buildings and the laundry facilities are spread out amongst them.  There is no laundry in our building.  With 3+ feet of snow on the ground currently, the usual shortcuts across lawns to the closest building with laundry are cut off.  So every time I want to do a load of laundry, I have to lug the basket to the car and drive it to the closest building with laundry.  No, wait, first I have to drive to the rental office to load money on our laundry card.  Because putting a reload machine where the actual laundry facilities are makes entirely too much sense.  So I have to drive to go reload the card, have it reject my bills 10 times before it finally accepts them, then back in the car.  I lug the laundry basket and the giant and ridiculously heavy laundry detergent inside and down a flight of stairs only to find all two machines taken.  Oh, that's right.  In each laundry room, there are only 2 machines.  So back to the car to drive to another building hoping to find empty machines.  Then I fill two machines with what should only be one load of laundry because the washers are maddeningly tiny.  Then I slide my card and pay $3.00 motherfucking dollars to wash one load.  Drying one load is $2.75.  $5.75 for one load!  And that's only if you don't have to add more time.  You always have to add more time.  Shit is never dry after one standard dry cycle.  Then back in the car to go home.  Thirty minutes later back in the car to put everything in the dryer.  I forgot the dryer sheets.  I don't care.  I'm not going back for the dryer sheets.  Back home.  An hour later, back in the car to get the dry stuff.  Hope it's not snowing or raining so everything doesn't get wet while I lug it to the car.  This giant pain in the ass means nothing extra ever gets washed.  I daydream about pulling all of our warm blankets out of their storage boxes and washing them.  I daydream about washing our duvet and mattress pad and heavy jackets and all the things it's just not worth doing.  One day, I will have a washer and a dryer in the house and I will wash and dry things with reckless glorious abandon. 

 

I also want a bath.  I want a big, beautiful tub that I can fill with bubbles and lock the door and light candles and drink a glass of wine and read a book.  For some reason, I have been craving a bath lately like crazy.  Our apartment has a small tub, but it has one of those sliding glass doors and it's more of a glorified shower stall than a real tub.  A bath in that thing would be uncomfortable and unpleasant.  For our upcoming first wedding anniversary, we booked a night in the same room where we spent our wedding night and the room has a giant, gorgeous marble bathroom with a beautiful clawfoot tub.  I have been fantasizing about that tub since we made the reservation. 

 

You know what else would be nice?  Not knowing the exact duration of the pee streams of the guy who lives upstairs. 

 

I realize there are pros and cons.  For instance, I will probably one day miss not having to plow or shovel with every snowfall because there's a whole maintenance crew who takes care of it.  I will probably miss being able to make a quick phone call and have a guy here in 5 minutes when we discover there's no hot water.  I will probably miss not having to pay property taxes and having the cost of gas and water included in our rent.  I will miss not having to worry about whether the roof needs replacing or the furnace bites it or the house has an ant infestation.  I realize that.  But right now those things seem totally worth it as long as I have a washer/dryer and I don't have to hear that guy pee.