Dreaming of March 31st

This morning, I stood in the subway station watching the sun peak over the tops of the condo buildings and I realized something: in 2 months, I am rarely going to step foot in this station again, let alone take this bus and watch that sunrise. In 2 months, I’ll be familiarizing myself with not one, but three stations. There will be new coffee shops along the way, different people, new commuting challenges and adventures. This realization sent me into a spiral of thinking about the new house, not in any specific terms, just a fixation on the change that is about to come.

I have no illusions about what we’ve gotten ourselves into: the house needs work. Don’t believe me? Take a look at this:

When you’ve stopped cringing, check this out:

Nope, there’s no more counter space on the other side of the room. That’s it. That’s the whole thing.

Rough, I know. This place is not just dirty — though it’s that too. Rather, it’s almost non-functioning. We have a month to make it livable, but I expect I’ll be living with sub-floor and unpainted drywall a lot longer than that. I can’t wait to get behind those walls and found out what mess we’ve got coming to us. I even can’t wait to start scrubbing. Who would have thought I would be so excited to clean? This project is going to bend me, stretch me, push my patience. But the final product, the home filled with our sweat and (probably) tears, the home we build, it will be completely worth it. I am confident of that.

But why did we buy such a place in the first place? I’m sure you’re wondering. After all, we could have gotten a bigger house in better condition for the same amount of money if we’d headed toward the ‘burbs. The west part of the city, even. Or what about one of those condos? We could have bought a beautiful one bedroom with top-of-the-line finishes for significantly less money. As long as we were willing to sacrifice location, that is. And there’s the kicker. Down the street from this little house there’s a bakery. A little further, there’s a butcher shop. There’s the endless numbers of restaurants, cafes, gift shops, hair salons, book stores, dog groomers, boutiques one after another. And then you hit the subway and suddenly the city unfolds at your feet. I’ll pass on the big house, the pristine condo, thank you very much. I have a whole city to live in.


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