Not Quite Betty Crocker

I'll admit it: I've been a brat about home-ownership lately. Okay, since the day we signed our mortgage. I was just never one of those people who aspired to owning a home. Yes, longing to rip out ugly cabinets or paint over horrible paneling sometimes made me wistful, but between living in super-expensive cities (NYC, Chicago), having the itch to move every couple of years, and the blissful ability to punt any and all home-related issues to a landlord, I was happy. If I lost my job I could move, if I hated my landlord I could move, if I needed to save money and find a cheaper place... you get the picture.

Then I met Joey, a happy homeowner if I ever met one. He bought his first house at a relatively young age (especially for a single guy) and had no qualms about putting every spare dollar into improving his house. And not just improving -- like painting and making things functional and looking nice -- but investing in the long-term health of the house. He replaced windows, siding and landscaping.

So, in the haze of impending cohabitation, we fell in love with a house on the same street as his bachelor pad and promptly signed our names to the mortgage. The stress of long-term commitment (to a man... and a house!), cohabitating with said man, having a roommate and sharing my stuff resides in my memories as one big overwhelming mess, all of which overshadowed this home ownership thing.

Since last year at this time, we've spent untold (and untotaled) amounts of money on drainage, plumbing, subfloors, grout, sealer, and rentals of heavy machinery.

These are not things I'm happy to spend money on.

While I may complain (sometimes bitterly) about buying yet another gallon of paint, spending extra money on a toilet, finding that perfect sink, or last-minute trips for more tile, I can SEE those results. I walk into the bathroom and the sink makes me smile. {Well, not any more, but for a long time it did.}

The uber-expensive tile sealant, not so much.

Thank goodness for my guy, or there's no way I would have forked over two hundred bones for the huge pile of gravel currently sitting in my driveway (ahem, blocking in my truck). Or a hundred more to rent a Ditch Witch, the likes of which I'd never imagined before last weekend. Or the super-duper special branch cutter thing at Hell Depot which I quickly put to use trimming the pine trees that get in my hair when I walk through the garden and make me worry that ticks are running down my back.

Right now I'm working in the shade on a lawn chair under the shrub thing next to our driveway watching the dog chew up a stick and chase butterflies, and I understand why owning a home is worth the plumbing bills and costs for bs things you don't even get to enjoy (hello, drainage system).

Because someday, that will be my child chasing butterflies.

So I guess it's time to stop being a brat about being tied to a house and a mortgage and old cloggy plumbing.