Speak to Me

Speak to Me

I don't know if it's the spray paint I inhaled today or the cat vomit I just stepped in, but something has tipped me over the edge. I've decided to blog about my new house.

Today on NPR they announced the recession is ending. No one mentioned me by name, but I know I've played an important role. I'm one of the many brave Americans who stepped out on a limb, put my heart on the line and signed a mortgage, sentencing myself to a life of home ownership.

It all began many hopeful months ago... My realtor joyfully waved to me from the open window of her late 90's Toyota. For the first of what would be many times, I bound out of my office building and jumped into the car as my realtor exclaimed, "Let's find you a house".

Friends had assured me that one of the homes would "speak" to me. But it's hard to have a home "speak" to you when you're a country-bred woman in her twenties living in a major city. And the level of difficulty increases by exactly 432% when the budget is less than what most people spend on twisty ties in a year.

Tears have come. Laughter has come. Every step of the way, painful or wonderful, has gifted me with an entertaining story. These stories I will share.

Now, please excuse me as I wash this stuff off my shoe.