Skip to main content

DID I MARRY MY HOUSE?

A few weeks ago I started to have doubts as to whether I should continue to live in the home I own. I have lived in it for over seven years and have never faltered in my love for this place; It has original stained glass, hardwood floors, all the transoms work, panoramic windows-but it is huge, and made of BRICK.

Brick is my favorite exterior across the board, but I am now learning that it costs a lot to repair. As I began to share my homeowner woes with one of my friends, he started to ask a lot of questions that slowly made me wonder if I was actually married to my house. Here is the conversation with literary liberties:

Friend: So how come you didn't notice the damage?
Me: I have just been so busy for so long that what was a small leak went unnoticed until the wall started to really fall apart.
Friend: So what are you going to do?
Me: I am thinking of selling it after the repairs, I really can't afford to keep making such expensive repairs, but I love it so much.
Friend: Well, why not keep it?
Me: Well, the truth is that although it makes me really happy, we've grown apart. I bought it for a kind of life I thought I was going to have, but over the years that has changed and we're not good for each other anymore, I can't take care of it properly, and its costs keep me from living the life I deserve.
Friend: Do you think maybe you  are just in a rut and need to shake things up a bit?

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

INTRODUCTION

How or where do I start? Well, more than a year ago I set up this space with the idea that I would blog my little heart out, but here I am now just barely starting off. You should know that I have no idea what I am doing and that I am finally doing this because, well, I don't know that either. I am a professional in my early 30's living in Central, PA. It is finally dawning on me that the job I am doing now is probably the job I will be doing for the rest of my life...great for "stability", but terrible for having something to look forward to. Don't get me wrong, I love my job, I help people all the time and my co-workers are wonderful, but it's almost like a courtship, I wish my profession would "court me" a little more, that it ought to worry that one day I wouldn't be here anymore and therefore should be nicer and more spontaneous with me. Does that sound odd? Probably, but that is how I feel...maybe it's a professional 7 year itch thing...
Post a Comment
Read more

WITH APOLOGIES TO MY BODY AND ONWARD WITH GRATITUDE

For the first 40 years of my life I hated you. As a young child I hated that you were neither fast nor strong, as a teenager I blamed you for not having the flexibility that could get me into Julliard, as I lifted weights, I was angry you were not strong enough and as I became a lawyer I hated you for being the kind of body that helped me be a good lawyer.  I didn't just hate you for my reasons; I also brought in people into my life that dumped their own self hate onto you and I agreed with them. You were blamed for their alcoholism, their inability to have an erection, and for holding erections for far too long, for their sex addictions, for their premature ejaculations and for their general unhappiness, what is worse; my hate for you was so strong, I could never fully trust anyone who loved you. But then last year I was in an accident. It would have killed anyone who had a different body than you. The insurance assessor assumed the owner of my car had died and my chiropr...
Post a Comment
Read more

MOTHERHOOD: A SITE OF VICIOUS NEGOTIATION

I woke up this morning to a baby puking on me while smiling unapologetically. For the first time her lack of inhibition worried me. This Mother's Day, I thought I'd be reflecting on being a mother for the first time and jot down some mushy words, instead, I think back to the day I walked in on my mom having greater aspirations for my daughter than she did for me.   My dad raised me to thrive in the world I deserved, my mom raised me to survive in the world I was born into. Needles to say, my dad's parenting was liberating and empowering, my mom's was stifling and suffocating, so of the two parents I always rebelled against HER. She would often say that I was created fighting her given how difficult her pregnancy was with me. She was right, my earliest memories with my mom are of our arguments. We fought like the swords of two warriors: I was driven by a desire to be free and capable, her by fear that I might suffer consequences the patriarchy metes out to misbehaving wo...
Post a Comment
Read more