As I’m writing this, I’m (finally) sitting in the dining room of our new home. The sunlight announcing a beautiful Saturday morning along the bluff streams in the window (I’d forgotten the house faces east), and I have the place to myself for awhile. As I ponder life while listening to some Alan Jackson, life seems pretty damned good.
It took 14 hours, two trips, and two movers who worked without a break to transport our life the ten miles from Portland’s North Tabor neighborhood to University Park near the University of Portland. My back is so sore that I can barely move, but now that it’s all done, I can (almost) say it was worth it. We may be surrounded by unpacked boxes, yet to be opened boxes, and more than a little chaos, but the worst of it is over. Once we managed to find the coffee and the coffee maker, we know there was hope. There’s a lot of work remaining to be done, but nothing that’s time-critical…at least so far as I know.
After signing the papers at 6 a.m. and finally get the keys at 11:30 a.m., Erin and I had finally made it through the process of finding a home together. The truly amazing part of it all was how quickly it all happened. From the time Erin texted me on Christmas Eve with the suggestion that we buy a home together, just a shade over two months transpired. Now I’m sitting in a home with three times the floor space and I’m not quite certain what to do with myself…though sitting on the front porch with a margarita (at 10 a.m. no less) is starting to sound pretty good.
I could sit here all day and enjoy the sunshine…and if I can get away with it, I just might.
