Happy anniversary, house!  And happy 101st birthday! Yay!

I have now lived in my home for a year and what a year it has been.  I can barely believe it.  Pretty much every day for the past year I have woken up every morning expecting Ashton Kutcher to show up with a film crew saying, “HA!  Just kidding!  You didn’t actually buy a house!  Now get the hell out.”  Following that moment we would all sit around the TV and see secret camera footage of all the embarrassing footage of the things I do around the house when I’m alone.  The world would sit and watch, agog, as I sing off-key and dance around the house, my limbs tilting wildly, looking as though I were trying not be eaten by a shark.

But during the last few weeks I realized that unlike my rent, which I always held off on paying till the last conceivable moment, I look forward to paying my mortgage.  I’ve learned a great deal about taking care of myself and my surroundings as well as gained a greater appreciation for a lot of things.  For instance, I recall as a child I was always incredulous as to why the garage wasn’t just clean.  Why not?  It’s sitting right there, not as if you have to pounce on it and hold it down like a muddy dog or anything.  Suddenly, it’s all quite clear that sometimes when you start to look at that “little” project, you have to consider what I call the Snowball Factor.

The Snowball Factor is best illustrated using the following:  Let’s say that someone wanted to organize the office and get things tidy.  They want to get some organizers, maybe a desk because they haven’t had one forever and they are sick of paying the bills in bed and have stubbed their toe on the printer (which lives on the floor) for the millionth time in the middle of the night.  They set out to pick up just a handful of supplies and they wake up a couple hours later, face down in the gutter outside of Ikea.  They are surrounded by (the amazingly delightful and fun omni-directional) rolling carts and eco-friendly blue bags laden with storage boxes, shelving, a desk, new living room  furniture, lighting, a cute vase they found in the “as-is” section and a bag of frozen meatballs.  Their wallet has been pillaged and is sitting a couple feet away on the ground with the cash now spent and useless credit and debit cards skittering around on the pavement in the late night breeze.

Ahem.  (Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or real events is purely coincidental.)

I’ve also grown to appreciate the security of living in a home, though it took some getting used to.  You see, living in an apartment it felt as though someone had my back.  I knew that if a psycho killer were to pop out from behind the shower curtain, someone would hear me scream like a schoolgirl and at least complain to the management, if not call the cops.  I was also on the third floor so I knew I wouldn’t have to worry quite so much about the zombie uprising.  It is so much easier to defend just the stairs without worrying about the windows too.  When I moved into my home I was completely paranoid.  I felt exposed and almost in danger with all four sides of my dwelling being exposed to the outside world.  Zombies could attack at any moment and just come right on in through the windows.  Then I realized that the threat of zombies is a small price to pay for the quiet of not hearing muffled TVs, music, or Luka walking into doors every night.  After a while I realized that ten inches of brick are pretty dang solid and I started to feel really grounded.

One of the most exciting things about owning my home has been the creative freedom.  Though I haven’t painted yet (I’m hoping to do so before the end of the month) the understanding that I can TOTALLY do that if I want to is intoxicating.  It’s a good thing I don’t have cable anymore simply because I can’t have the temptation of HGTV, TLC and the DIY networks fill my head with all sorts of dangerous ideas.  I’ve been able to really expand my creativity in ways I hadn’t thought of before and opened me up to new design aesthetics I hadn’t previously explored.  I’ve had to stretch myself to think about how to work with the character of a 101 year old building which was actually one of the only things I hadn’t contemplated and obsessed over before I purchased the house.  I’m sure I will continually change and that my creative process in all areas will evolve in response to the incredible character and life my house of its own.

The most deeply satisfying thing has been the opportunity to invite friends and family to spend time in my home.  It’s so much more personal and comfortable having people over and sharing a very personal space with them instead of the current rented stall.  Not to look down on renter’s situations whatsoever, they work really well and were perfectly suited to my needs for several years.  But, for whatever reason, the three years I spent in apartments were three slightly awkward years which gave me the feeling I was staying in glorified La Quintas, though these ones weren’t great with cleaning the room or changing the bedding for me.  The lack of room-service hasn’t changed, but the environment is significantly different and the level of attachment and comfort is well beyond that of any other place I’ve lived.

The 12 months I spent working up the courage, crunching the numbers, searching and sifting and finally closing on the largest purchase of my life were some of the most stressful and aggravating months of my life.  They payoff has been amazing though.  The last year has been one of the greatest and most relaxed years I’ve ever enjoyed.  The sense of accomplishment may have waned somewhat, but the rewarding independence and freedom have only grown with each passing day.