When FH and I first went house shopping, I toured the house we live in and said, “I’ll take it!” Sometimes I can be indecisive. But when it’s time to make a big decision and I know what I want, I REALLY want it. So we moved in (somewhat to FH’s chagrin). After we had lived here for a year, we debated over the hotly contested lease renewal, and I also won that battle (who actually wants to move?).
As it was told to me by FH, he had woken up late in the morning to what sounded like consistent knocking on our front door. After the knocking ceased (he’s not one for answering doors straight from bed), he wandered out into the living room. A moment later, he saw our air conditioning unit fly onto the floor from the window. He turned the corner and saw a human being attempting to climb into the window of our house. From his body emitted a massive and utterly primal “WHAT THE BLEEP?,” as said human being fled from the scene. On a bike?
Cops were called.
Discussions were had.
Security systems were installed (by our insanely, unbelievably nice landlords, who are genuinely kind and concerned people... tell me when that ever happens?).
And we are moving. *sigh*
My first reaction was that I needed a gun... mainly for punishing the greedy, sticky fingers of the villain. My second reaction was, “ohhhh... we’re moving... :( “
Although FH tends to be a worrier, it does not mean his worries are ever uwaranted, and now is the time to secede to the worries. Although I have accepted (I *think*... I’ll get back to you in August when our lease is up) the fact that moving must happen, I tried to explain to FH why it would be so difficult for me.
After having lived a rather difficult year in Minneapolis on my own, finding this house was a really important step for me. The precious little bay window in the living room, and the cutsie primary-colored glass in the front door were so inviting, and the tiny rooms that made up the tiny house made me feel like it was our own little space and world, independent of anyone else. It is the first place, since living at my parents house, that I could really truly call home. And perhaps it’s even more like home to me because it’s all ours, and having FH live with me is what home means to me. It’s the first place I’ve lived where I can say that I’ve been really, truly happy. We will make home elsewhere, and to be honest, home will always be where FH is. My favorite memory of this house is sitting in the living room during my 2nd to last semester of grad school, getting my butt kicked every week in my History of Indian music class, laying on the couch for hours and hours trying to get through all the reading. And morning coffee when the living room is really sunny, that’s the best. I know that change happens, and we can’t stay here forever, but I will really, really miss this place. :)