Beware the Nesting Instinct, My Son

I don't think I've posted this fact in so many words, but K and I want to buy a home by the time our lease runs out on our current apartment. ATTENTION: DO NOT give into your instinct to call me and hint about "how great it would be if you could move to our area" because this is a LOCAL move. I was going to indicate who I was talking most to at this point but I don't trust ANY of you. >;)

Well, this would be our first home and the Terror Index around here is a pretty tomato-RED ALERT. We're young and it's one thing to swear fealty to another human so long as you both shall be kicking; it's another thing to indebt yourself for a sum of money which neither can fathom to a system that would probably like to reinstate the Debtors Prison.

Anyhow, we comfortably qualify for the biggest amount we are even thought of spending, which WOW! I guess cooking a lot instead of eating out, staying home A LOT, going down to one car, and buying our furniture at a snails' pace paid off! As much as finding the home is going to take a lot of time, long discussions, and probably a few fights, I'm still psyched. And PETRIFIED. And soaring with expectation. And anxious to get started.

This is where that whole "give and take" relationship thingy takes its toll. In the face of a huge decision, I think about it constantly, grow bat-like ears listening for any scrap of knowledge I encounter by talking about it incessantly, and DIVE IN PRONTO because if I'm going to have to do this thing, I'm getting it out of the way, darn it! Hubster, on the other hand, hangs back while mulling over it in the background, BECOMES a reclusive bat doing research, wets his feet cautiously, and rains on my FULL SPEED AHEAD parade. (pout) Do I HAVE to have him as my buddy for this project?

The answer, as always, is a loud, firm "Yes, now STOP ASKING!" And it's probably a good thing. I mean, I like to think my method is superior in every way (who doesn't?), but he keeps me from using the Jump to Conclusions mat I stole from Office Space. He usually has such well-rounded opinions that it's hard to WANT to steamroll over him even if I could.

In the end, I have to trust him to understand how important this is to me, even as I strive to understand it myself. I really do have a nesting instinct, and that means I have so much emotion associated with the idea of home that it startles me. Will the kitchen be the same delightful place to congregate as the ones in which I grew up? Will there be enough light and space for Persephone to stretch herself out for a sun-drenched nap? Will my dreams of saturating our new home with color, detail, and personality yield anything I can love? Will we be happy there?

And so it begins. The long hours, the in-depth discussions with subjects like "Laundry Room: Necessity or Frivolity?" and the nagging feeling that we will NEVER have all the information we want, swiftly followed by the understanding that WE NEVER REALLY DO get all that. Here's to home, whatever it is, whatever we make of it.