On owning a house (and my aspirational vs. actual self)

We bought a townhouse right before we got married, a year into grad school. Our place is in a great location and has been a fine first house. As we prepare to sell it, though, I am certain that in this case I let my aspirational self get in the way of who I actually am.

I first encountered the concept of an ideal or aspirational self on the 2000 Dollar Wedding blog and then more recently at Northwest Edible Life. The idea is that when we think about how we want our lives to look, we must strive to be authentic with ourselves. Sara might wish that she would be happy taking care of a farm, but her truth is that she’ll probably always be happier at her computer or sewing machine. In Erica’s parallel aspirational life, she weighs 150 pounds, but her husband reminds her that at age 30, when she actually did weigh 150 pounds, she was cranky, cold, and libido-less.

My parents bought a one owner fixer upper, unupdated since the 1960s, when I was twelve. As they exchanged dark pine kitchen cabinets painted with Bible verses and foil wallpaper for sleek, modern cabinetry and lightly textured, neutrally painted walls, I was proud of how great our house looked and how much of the work they did themselves. Enter the rise of HGTV and my hours skimming blogs like Young House Love, and I was pretty sure I was going to love owning and working on a house.

As Hubs and I stood on the brink of married life, with house down payment burning a hole in our bank account, I envisioned only our aspirational life. In this parallel universe, we happily visit Home Depot, paint rooms, and reglaze windows on the weekends. When something goes wrong, we gamely work together to find an immediate solution and are available to meet repair people at all hours of the day.

In real life, home ownership combined with the pressures of grad school has been overwhelming. On the weekends, we want to watch the entire first season of Homeland on DVD and brew beer, not reglaze windows. And I hate painting so much that I started painting a half bath (the tiniest room in the whole house) in November 2010 and my mom just finished it for me in January. One memorable Saturday included replacing old ceiling fans and me screaming f-bombs, while Hubs silently cursed the project (and me, probably). As far as repairs go, we paid an extra $10-20 on our water bill for months because of a leaky tub faucet. When we finally called the plumber, he replaced the fixture in less than three hours for half the price of the water that had just been going down the drain all that time.

I’ve learned so much about my authentic path through this first try at homeownership. While my parents now have a beautiful house, I’m not sure they would go the fixer upper route again, and I definitely will not. In fact, as we prepare to move to North Carolina this fall for Hubs’ postdoc, we are planning to rent. Maybe we can find a house with space for the garden I’ve been dreaming of, but we’re definitely going to think carefully about who we really are as we take this next step.

Where does your ideal self intersect with your real life? Where do they diverge?

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Just that kind of month

I didn’t realize how demoralizing cold and drizzly days can be for me, until I noticed how much easier it has been to maintain an appropriate level of emotional response during this sunny, warmish past week.

I love this post from Martha Beck about “coping with a February.” Plus, I was watching or reading something the other day (can’t remember!) and it said something along the lines of, “February is the shortest month, but it seems like the longest.” Past the first sweater weather of the season and the holiday fun, being cold all the time and getting your feet wet because you optimistically wore non-waterproof suede boots kind of sucks.

Sometimes it can be super helpful to remember, though, as I turn on my space heater, that I’m not alone and that spring will come again.

Just one of those days

Today I:

discovered why an experiment I have been attempting for several months has never worked: because I don’t have the fish with the genotype I thought they had.

realized that the flight I booked for a workshop in May last week during the Southwest sale was off by two days.

had a toilet overflow.

tried to convince Hubs we need to adopt another dog. (I failed).

spilled macaroni and cheese on my pants.