Still, that didn't stop me from being scared. Was I doing the right thing? Could I really afford it? What if something big broke?
But here it is, nine years later and I've never missed or been late with a mortgage payment, I've made renovations, I've furnished it twice, I've replaced the windows, the roof, the HVAC, the awning and some of the electrical work. I learned how to paint, how to use a drill, how to change light fixtures, install a doorbell and what drill bit to use on my plaster walls.
Initially I was scared to sleep upstairs, so I slept on my sofa in the basement, near the door, clutching my purse. Then, I moved one level up to the family room off of the kitchen. Then I moved to the top level and into the guest room. Eventually, I moved into my bedroom.
That first winter was a cold one. I was scared to cut the heat up too high because I was frightened about getting an astronomical gas bill. I was also sweaty that first summer because I was afraid to cut the air down too low because I didn't want to get a crazy power bill AND I was terrified of sleeping with the windows open as I didn't want someone to climb in and kill me.
If you had asked me back then if I would still be living in that same house nine years later, I would have said, "of course not!" I knew I would be married someday and assumed I would sell or rent my house and me and my beau would buy another together.
It was hard coming back to my house earlier this year. I felt like I was moving backward instead of forward. I didn't really want to leave the home I shared with Mr. SLS because it was home to me. My house was just a house.
However, I am grateful that I had a house to come back to when my marriage failed. And it is starting to feel like home again, though there is so much stuff I still want and need to do in there before I can say I'm "done."
And here's a song I sing in the shower a lot: