If the blog title is throwing you for a loop, you aren’t imagining things. Yes – we did move recently. And yes, we did it again. (Even though Chuck and I both swore up and down that we would never move ever again because it’s the worst thing ever.) That’s actually part of why this blog has been slaaacking for so long. Getting the other house ready to sell, doing all of the paperwork involved (not only did we have to do all the mortgage, insurance, etc. stuff but since I’m a licensed real estate agent I also handled the transaction).
And then, of course all of the packing and unpacking and just… life.
Anywho. We moved into our previous home in May 2015 after living in an apartment for a few years and thought for sure that it would be our “forever” home. It’s plenty big enough for the two of us and our two cats, with tons of room for any other little feet that might be coming down the line (no plans anytime soon people, relax). But then a thing happened.
My parents had been threatening to downsize for a while because they both wanted desperately to move back to the town they grew up in, and where my entire family still lives. And I was irritated by it because I’m a brat and when Chuck and I bought our home we picked a location that was quasi-central to both families. But with my parents opting to move a further 20 minutes south, it meant Chuck and I would be effectively in the middle of no where. Which is not convenient for any future little feet.
Or my anxiety. Mostly my anxiety.
My dad told us to make an offer on their house, which is the house that Chuck and I compared all homes to while house hunting. We thought he was kidding, and we thought there was no way we could afford it but eventually we did make an offer. Kind of as a joke, but kind of seriously.
And my parents accepted.
And we put our house on the market.
And got an offer almost immediately.
And now… we’ve moved!
Honestly, it’s a weird feeling. For starters I can attach sentimental value to anything, and leaving our first “real” (i.e.: not an apartment) home was a bit sad. But moving back to the town I grew up in, and to the house I lived in from the time I was 15 until I moved out on my own, was amazing. It felt like coming home in the most literal sense.
But it’s also weird… I mean, the room that was my parents’ bedroom is now my bedroom. The whole house will probably stay decorated the same way it currently is for a while (with the exception of replacing some of my parents’ furniture with our furniture), until we get around to painting. There are some rooms that are going to stay exactly as they were when my parents lived there – with all of the same furniture in them and everything. After all, we didn’t have enough furniture to fill the house and my parents downsized and didn’t need it.
The main feeling right now, though, is excitement. As I said – I’m thrilled to be back in my hometown (even though we were only 1 town over before) and in a house that Chuck and I both adore.
But mostly I’m excited for this transition to be over. Packing was the worst. The. Worst. And unpacking isn’t much better.