My friend Sarah stopped by just a little while ago with her mother-in-law, who will be taking care of the kids while Sarah and Larry are away for the weekend. I’m on synagogue and religious school duty (as in: Take children to services and school this weekend). Diane has never seen my condo, so I gave her the nickel tour and after they left, I realized—hey, I’ve been here for three years already!
In those three years, I’ve refinanced a full point lower (tempted to do it again, but probably not worth it), paid off my debt completely, bought bookcases, a dining room set, a new desk for the office, a bed for the guestroom (you may laugh, but I had none when I moved in and found a queen bed for $600 that everyone loves), and various small household items. I’ve joined the condo board (term ends next month, woo-hoo!), lived through several snowstorms, a hurricane and an earthquake (in one week!), started a new novel (close to 20k words and counting), had Sarah’s kids overnight at least a dozen times (and the twins will be here again tomorrow so I can take them to religious school on Sunday), and had my own Passover seders in my own home.
The guest room went from being off-limits to the cats to being Tig’s room to being open at all times but rarely visited, as I no longer have my personal laptop downstairs, and he wants to be with me whenever possible. Gracie rarely comes downstairs anymore. She’s fourteen and has something wrong with her ACL (she goes pop-pop when she walks sometimes). She doesn’t care for stairs. And she really doesn’t need to go downstairs. The upstairs bathroom, part of the master bedroom, is large enough that it has a full bath/shower, a large double-sized sink counter, and the cats’ food dishes and litter box on either end. Gracie’s favorite petting place is the bathroom sink, so whenever I go into the bathroom, she (sigh) follows me in and demands a skritch. It’s annoying when I need to brush my teeth or comb my hair, because Tigger almost always decides that he needs to see what’s happening, too. So more often than not, I’m skritching Gracie while Tig is licking her ears, or licking the water off her head as she drinks from the sink.
The best thing about having my wonderful, ten-year-old condo is that I finally have a place that I love, that is beautiful and roomy and inviting. I have a place for guests, dinners, movie nights, even parties (if I ever decide to throw one again). I love that my friends happily pack off their children for a day or an overnight stay. And apparently, my refrigerator is big enough to hold two fridges’ worth of food, as Sarah discovered after Hurricane Irene took out her power. (I live in some kind of magic electricity zone now—my neighbors tell me that they had power during Hurricane Isabel eight years ago. I was one of the 22% of Richmonders who had power.)
So, yeah—being a homeowner is great. Especially when you go back and read stories like this one.
Three years and four days after moving in, I love my condo as much as I did three years and four days ago.