Well, this is the first activity of any kind on brianshrader.com in about a month. I’ve been in the house-buying-and-moving process. Harrowing, but fine, I guess.
I’ll probably remember 2009 for the recession more than buying my first house. This has been my first adult recession, and what a way to start! I spent the first six months frightened at the prospects of a collapsing economy and the second six months betting on its future health by buying a house.
What’s the worst that could happen?
I could starve to death, broken and penniless in the woods, I guess.
Being a homeowner isn’t really an accurate description of the situation. Better: I have an agreement with the bank to let me live here and do things while I pay for the house a couple of times over. I’m a stickler for the truth.
[Writer's note: On the radio right now, Don McClean's blabby, sickening "American Pie" is stinking up the airwaves. It's downstairs, and I don't have the energy to turn it off. So, if the influence of it's gassy lyrics and ham-fisted imagery drag this blog post to a watery grave, I apologize. Blame Don and your fellow man.]
There are two great features of the new place. It’s far enough away from civilization that I feel like I’m in the sticks. It’s 10 minutes from a grocery store, 10 minutes from a gas station, 10 minutes from a stop light. Marvelous! Spotty cell phone service, but quiet. It’s in a one-street subdivision, and every house is back in the woods. We all have the same idea. I enjoy hearing the distant pops of shotgun and rifle fire in the afternoons. I’ll take this over cookie-cutter suburbia any day. Every neighborhood I looked at reminded me of a beehive. I don’t want to live in a beehive.
I’m waiting to see some wildlife out here. You never know when you’ll have to pick off a squirrel for breakfast. Hey — I’ve already been through one recession, friend. You just never know what’s going to happen. So far, no wildlife, except for a neighbor’s bizarrely skittish dog. He’ll slowly walk up, sniff your hand or pants, then suddenly tear away as if you popped a bag in his face. I’m glad this dog is not a person, or I’d have serious qualms about living here. Something has come loose in his brain.
The other great feature is that the place came with three burn barrels! There’s no more natural place to spend time in a recession than huddled around a barrel of burning trash. It’s fitting and I love it.
Buying a house consumes a lot of your life, so I understand why new parents fall out of rhythm with the rest of us. Once upon a time, I was carefree and floating. Now, I’m measuring for weatherstripping and keeping a close watch on the electric meter.
Carry on to 2010.
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