I mean, when you bought it, did you think, "This is it. I am done. I will live here until the day I die. Amen." ?
Because, for me, I'm just not sure.
Don't get me wrong, I truly love our Trenches. We've been here for almost 10 years now. I brought all 3 of my baby boyz home to this place, the only place they know as home.
We (well, my father-in-law) transformed a dingy cement basement into a 3-room finished basement.
Hubby has painted. Both inside and out. And put on a new roof. (Without falling off a ladder, thankfully.)
We've had the driveway paved...
And still, there is always more to be done: A farmer's porch. A new back deck. A landscaped back yard.
That's not even taking into account the kitchen. The small, badly designed kitchen that I have been living with for all these years. The kitchen with no counter or storage space whatsoever. The kitchen I hate.
But all that is cosmetic. Things that can and will, someday, eventually, be fixed.
But but but.
Knowing that we could certainly stay where we are permanently, and be fine with it, Hubby and I still look around nonetheless. "Keeping our options open", as we like to call it.
So we talk about what we'd like in a house. We dream about that house. Every once in awhile we find one that beckons. Yet we never pick up the phone to call the realtor. And soon enough, that house is sold. And we shrug our shoulders and say, "Oh well. We're fine here."
And then we find something like this:
But then I think about our Trenches. The only home we've ever known as a family. Our great location. The familiarity of our neighbors (Can you say built-in babysitters not only right next door, but right across the street as well!) My sunroom. And that damn phrase, "The grass isn't always greener..."
I find my heart beating a bit faster as I think about having to get our house ready to put on the market. The de-cluttering. The entire process of getting it "ready to show". Mentally vomiting.
Nonetheless, we actually take the next step. We call the realtor.
There's something about this house.
And we start to think: Should we? Could we?
So tell me: Are you in your forever house? How do you know?