Closing in on closing...



My weekend.

 One day to go!  I can't believe after all the highs and lows of house hunting (which isn't nearly as fun or quick as they show on HGTV, but thank Cheesus we didn't have to deal with Sandra Rinomato), the waiting and the strife, we only have one day to go.  Surprisingly, my four days and four nights without John flew by.  I think this could be due to a packing trance I was under for most of the time, brought on by the repetition of carefully entombing all of our possessions in bubble wrap and paper and the sweet smells of packing tape and Sharpies.  Twenty five boxes, two rolls of paper, 1.5 rolls of packing tape, and only one (!) bottle of wine later, my weekend is over, John is back, and tomorrow we close. 

While I know we're both so excited to move into our own home, we're also sort of terrified.  Even though we've been married for almost two and a half years, buying a house feels more like the biggest, most adult decision of our lives.  It's a huge financial investment, not to mention the time investment it will take to maintain and improve our home.  At this point in our lives, I think we're ready for the challenge.  I know underneath it all, I'm really 50 on the inside.  Nothing makes me happier than watching "This Old House" on a Saturday morning while leafing through my latest issue of "Better Homes and Gardens".  We even spent our last Valentine's Day trolling Home Depot, getting all misty-eyed and dreamy checking out the tiles and flooring.  Maybe at 25 and 26, we should be renting a one-bedroom apartment in D.C. living it up, but like most things in life, I'll blame my parents for making me like this.  Some of my happier memories include the trips to Sears with my dad, hours spent perusing the tool department (granted, I may have been bribed with Slurpees...), riding my bike down to the local hardware store to pick up some screws for the newest deck project, and painting the shed in the backyard with my parents.  Heck, my dad even mildly resembles Tom Silva.  Now it is my time to pick up the hammer, don the plaid, and live out the American Dream.  It is pretty terrifying, thinking tomorrow we'll gain a house and lose our carefree youth, but I know we're ready.  We have each other and the support of our families.  What else could we need?

In the spirit of the end of our Final Countdown, it seems only appropriate to once again borrow from "Europe" to commemorate this monumental occasion:

We're leaving together
But still it's farewell
And maybe we'll come back
To Eagle Ridge Lane, who can tell?
I guess there is no one to blame
We're leaving Overlook

Will things ever be the same again?