We had the inspection on Friday. I wonder what the inspector must have thought when he showed up to find my dad, my aunt, J., my mom, her husband, the realtor and then myself - all hanging around the house asking him a million questions and watching his every move while biting our lips and holding our breath.
The news, it's well... news. We expected that there was a small leak in the basement - this is typical when every house in your state is carved out of a mountain side - but we also expected that it would be easily fixable with some good waterproofing and sealing. However, what we did not expect was the fact that the previous owner shored up a stone wall in the driveway - again on a hill - without providing any drainage whatsoever. Say hello to massive pressure, say hello to a giant bow in the basement wall that we somehow never noticed. The good news? It's a relatively minor fix - we use an auger to drill some holes in the wall and provide lots of drainage. The bad news? We have to rip out all the drywall in the finished basement and pray to the gods of pity and home repair that the rest of the basement isn't a) covered in mold or b) sliding inward. Also the really big thing - c) we never really get to have a fully finished basement.
Now if the rest of house were huge and had lots of space, I wouldn't worry about it. But it's an oddly structured cape-cod style house - lots of space without a lot of rooms. Therefore, the basement was going to be our fun zone. Initially this was a deal breaker. If we can't use the basement, we'll just be crowded like we are now so what's the point? However, due to special addendums, we had already laid down a non-refundable $1,000 deposit just to make an offer on this house, not to mention the price of inspection. So I cried, we screamed, I didn't sleep, we argued for two days about this.
But then J. looked into my tearful face and promised me two things:
-- "You will not have to give up your books. I will build you something, we will be creative, I will find a way to give you the library of your dreams, no matter if I have to build shelves floor to ceiling all over that damn house."
-- "We will figure out a way to finish that basement. I don't care if we have to just have a cement floor, we will still make it awesome and hang your art everywhere and it will still be a fun zone, I promise."
And then we went over by ourselves one more time to take measurements, to sit quietly in it and think without outside influence. This time however, we took Gypsy. For years, we have wanted to own a home so badly we could taste it. We have fallen in love with many houses over the years, but it has always come down to a deciding factor - would the animals be happy here? If not, then it's an instant 'no.' If our animals aren't happy, we're not happy. It's that simple. Raven is now almost 8 years old and I don't want her to grow old fighting for a space at our one large window. Cats love stairs at 3am and sunbeams at noon, dogs love running in the yard and lounging in the sun on a warm spring day. So that was that.
Gypsy loved it. She was a kid in a big empty candy store. She must have run up and down the stairs five times and ran in circles in the yard about ten. Plus, we met our neighbors. They were friendly, they were fun, and best of all, they had dogs that Gypsy loved. It was odd how much she loved the place. This didn't seal the deal, but that compared to how many big windows and open space the cats would have came pretty damn close.
We always have until closing to back out and our lender has yet to appraise it and deem it "habitable" but these are all details that we hope will remain minor. It's unlikely that we'll back out of this one, as the location is great and it suits us very well, but we'd be lying if we said we weren't terrified. Home ownership has always seemed this amazing yet unattainable pinnacle for us for so long and now here we are on the cusp - and it's as daunting as it is enticing. We've always been ready to get our hands dirty, to rip up the carpet, to fix the little things - but to know that the landlord is not going to bail our asses out when the flood waters come into the basement at 2am? Well, that's a little scary. Plus, we never imagined that we'd be considering a house that has so many of those little things that need fixing.
At the same time, to know that I can paint the walls whatever the hell color I fancy is a feeling that is overwhelming in its freedom. To know that if I don't like a wall, I can take the damn thing down - that's mind-blowing. Yes, it's a drastic life change. Yes, it's going to have days full of frustration and doubt. Yes, it's going to tax us. Yes, it could give us so much. Yes, it could actually make us grow. Yes, it could be one of the most liberating and amazing things we've ever done. So for as scary and nervewracking as this whole process is, it's also incredibly comforting to know that our animals will no longer have to hide from anyone and neither will we. It would be ours and only ours.
The other day my chiropractor said to me, "Wow, a wedding and a house. That's the American dream right?" I laughed inwardly at myself because the idea of the 'American dream' drives me insane with contradiction, yet from the outside, that's exactly what you would think that I have. However, I prefer to call it 'normal life.' Why? Because the American dream is easy. It's having a 'normal life' that is hard. For all that I have been through in my life thus far, for all that we have been through together, it's having that normal life, that home life, that makes me feel as though I have finally made it to the end of one long, long journey. Now I can stop and rest a minute, change my shoes and prepare for the next one, whatever it may be or wherever it may take me. It's scary, it's exhilarating, it's exhausting... yet I think it's about time to get on the road.