Finding "the One"

It's all about timing. I know I've said this before, but it's true. Whoever said you have to kiss a lot of frogs, that's true too. And it's also probably true that there's not really just one for anybody. Nonetheless, it feels kind of magical when your paths intersect at just the right time and in just the right way and soon (or not soon) you realize you can actually make this work. You have to be ready for the effort it will take, though. And it may take you a series of heartbreaks to get ready. But this is okay. This is part of the joy you will feel.

At least that is what I'm hoping. You see, we have already "fallen" twice in this house hunting process so far. We fell into this sort of blissful imagining of the future we would have in a particular house, but it was not to be. Mio Marito (I'm learning Italian, sort of) does not believe the adage that we should not get emotionally involved in our house hunting. I think what he means, which is true, is that you can not separate your emotions from the process, because if you do you may end up buying a place that is an awesome value for the neighborhood and that will re-sell very well, but that you just plain old don't dig the idea of living in and that is lame.

Other things that apply to both dating and house hunting:

When something just feels wrong, go with your gut and get out of there. One of the places we saw Wednesday had an immediate bad feeling about it. The step up to the house from the porch was huge--it just seemed off. And it was only down from there: burn marks in the middle of the living room floor, broken glass from the chandelier all over the dining room, and then we went upstairs where the place was riddled with offensive messages written or carved into doors and walls. One of the rooms had several holes in the walls as well. Sometimes you can go into a house and see beyond these cosmetic things, but here I could not. Bad things had happened here. Also, we didn't really love the layout. It was small and crampedish.

You will get your heart broken and learn that you have a heart, which is a good thing. The last place we saw Wednesday, we were already excited about before we got there. We'd driven through the neighborhood before and knew it was a good location and that the townhomes were nice and built in the eighties so they had better layouts (the seventies townhomes tend to be pretty dark and dank). The place was so spacious and bursting with potential like an absess with fluid. It had the largest kitchen area we had yet seen in our price range. The basement was huge with a high ceiling and very sunny. The master bedroom had three windows and a killer walk-in closet. Yes, we were enamored. It needed new flooring throughout, as someone had pulled some seriously doofus manuevers with the flooring, but we were ready to deal with that. The surrounding area was also nice and the place was begging for a real nice deck. What happened? Oh, it was under contract by the time we got home that night. I felt dumped, I really did. But maybe it was just a crush anyway. It might be true that I should avoid completely throwing myself into something in the future, but I should also remain open to possibility of loving again.

That's enough similarities for now. In other news, I've been trying to revive that freelance writing idea and am now moving forward and working on the portfolio. Il Marito and I are learning a little Italian for our trip that is still a good nine months away. I'm trying herbal remedies for annoyances that have plagued me and I am somewhat hopeful. Also, I have become a library-goer again. I gave it up for many years, but figured with the name change they probably wouldn't be tracking my previous activities.

Last but not least, some of my coworkers were taking me out to lunch this week in honor of my birthday (oh yeah, I turned the big 3-0 last Saturday), and one of my coworkers that had seen a picture of El Esposo/Il Marito described him as looking like a "Young Hugh Hefner." I found a picture and it is proudly displayed at the top of this entry. Don't get any ideas, mi amore.