Clear to close

Whew.

Our broker called me at 1 p.m. yesterday and it felt as though a quarter of the weight of the world was off of our shoulders.

Figures that the day Scott leaves we get the clear to close.

So this is our house. Go ahead and picture it without all of the ivy and the bushes in the front. That’s all coming down - ivy is awful for a home – and I really hate those bushes in the front. They block the windows, which are just screaming for flower boxes. I love the driveway, I love the garage, the yard…all of it.

We looked at this house on a lark, really. I was ready to put in an offer on a house with way, way more room. But it didn’t have a yard, and the area wasn’t as great and Scott really wanted to look at other houses in Beverly and oh my God Erin I am not putting money into something just because you want to. So the moment we walked in to this place we knew. I can’t really explain, because we both walked around it on our own. When we met on the second floor, Scott looked at me and said, “There is something about this place.” And I looked at him and said, “I know! There is!”  I joked that it might have been the smell – it was empty, and needed upgrading and, to be frank, not what we were looking for. It didn’t need a lot of work – all of the structural, foundation, electrical, etc., issues are sound – but it did need a great deal of upgrading. From the paneling in the upstairs bedrooms to the outdated kitchen and bathrooms, it just needed some work in comparison to what else was on the market. But he was right – something about this house made us stop and look at it with different eyes. We quickly figured out that this was our home. We felt it on a very visceral level. It’s cheesy, I know, but that’s really how a house that needed work from two people who have no time to give it became our home. We went from wanting a walk-in-and-live house to one that requires some elbow grease.

Back in March, my family and I marched in the South Side Irish Parade. With the grand marshall, actually. It was a fantastic experience for us as a family – we’ve been coming to the parade since I was a kid, before it became the bacchanalia that resulted in its cancellation this year. I mentioned in my Flickr stream that I’ve always wondered why I didn’t move to Beverly, as it’s always felt like home. I didn’t think back then that by Christmas I’d own a home right off the parade route. Of course, JP is never going to let go that now one of his children owns a home in the neighborhood, now that the parade is over and there’s no need to spend the Sunday before St. Patrick’s Day struggling for parking and a bathroom.

We’ll be in the house by this time next week. There is so much I will miss about the north side, but it’s time. I’m ready for this next chapter, even though it means copious amounts of yardwork. And for the record? All of you people who complain about yardwork CLEARLY never had JP as a father because I grew up doing yardwork every weekend, and liked it, and I am so over everyone whining to me about the shoveling and the mowing.

Seriously. Quiet.

Thanks to everyone for all of your prayers and good wishes and love while I freaked out for months on end. I am so, so glad to be nearing the, ahem, home stretch.