Okay, okay… it’s been over a month since I promised to tell you my excuses for komplexify‘s lack of updates. What can I say? Life becomes extraordinarily busy when you buy a new home.
That’s right; I am now officially a homeowner! I’m now the proud owner of an example of a “split-foyer home,” a housing style that is maddeningly popular in our neighborhood despite the complete lack of utility of its design. The single defining feature of the split-foyer home is, paradoxically enough, the utter lack of any foyer: the main entrance to the abode opens not into an antechamber but into a staircase caught in the act of twisting 180 degrees between the two levels of the home. It’s rather like walking into Escher’s Relativity, except it’s significantly less spacious and there is a noticeable lack of other people strolling about on the walls.
And it has a hot tub! Mmmmmm, hot tub.
Odd entryway aside, it is a very nice house. The Queen B likes it because it has vaulted ceilings and central air-conditioning, a large yard with a shade tree and a deck for entertaining, multiple bathrooms, and a laundry room. She likes it because it is located on a quiet street in a nice neighborhood, a nice place in which to raise a daughter. She likes that it is located conveniently close to the hospital, the fire department, a public park, a public pool, a golf course, while being sufficiently far from the flood plains. She likes it because, while it is currently in excellent condition, she sees the potential for adding details and designs to make the home hers.
I like it because it has a hot tub. Mmmmmm, hot tub.
Actually, I like that it has a hot tub and a new garage. Have you ever smelled a new garage? Everyone loves that new car small, but that comes nowhere near the olfactory nirvana that is the smell of a brand new, sparkling clean, two-car garage. You might think it would smell of fresh lumber, concrete, and a hint of tire rubber — and, to be honest, it does — but mostly it smells of possibilities! Tools! A workbench! Bikes hanging from the rafters! A shelf for hot tub supplies!
In any case, buying the house was a rather engaging process. By “engaging,” I mean, “consuming every waking moment of my life, oh dear God, I did I get myself into?” There was the mortgage, a pleasantly French word for “home loan” that actually translates to the slightly less pleasant “make payments until you are dead.” There was the inspection and the appraisal and the closing and the thousand little other events that mostly involved the Queen B and I signing our names on brightly colored sheets of paper and cutting very large checks to people in nice suits. There was the actual moving of furniture, an already difficult process made damn near impossible what with the topologically challenging entryway discussed above. There was the repainting and recarpeting and retiling and relaminating and boxing and unboxing and all manner of plagues and pestilences.
And yet, at the end of it, we have a home! All the trials and tribulations of the previous month suddenly seem insignificant when I come home, sit on the couch with my wife, turn on the TV, and realize that this is all ours! This is our home! And it has a hot tub!
Mmmmmm, hot tub.
