It’s been a little over a month since we closed on the house. It was a rainy, dreary day, and our real estate agent showed up with a nasty cold that both W and I contracted, but it was a wonderful day. That day I was simply filled with excitement – the anxiety showed up later. But the anxiety soon passed in a blur of days, of making plans and completing projects. Of getting settled – at least partially – into this new phase of our lives. And as the days and nights and then weeks passed, as first I stayed here on an occasional night, and then weekends, and then, finally, just admitted I wasn’t going back to the condo at all and retrieved enough clothes and shoes and personal items to make it work, the house became “home.” W was here when I was as well, though he hadn’t declared himself “officially moved over” until the other night, and there is still a lot of stuff at his old place. But since he’s keeping the old house and we plan to use it to host kink parties (eventually), it will never be empty – just reconfigured. Ad’s presence at the house has been more sporadic, since he works five minutes from the condo, we have dog care issues, and most of our furniture, etc., is still there.
But being here, the two of us or three, has really began to feel…normal.
I remember our first night in the house after we’d finished painting the living room, brought over enough dishes, pots and pans and utensils to have an actual meal at home, and brought over the couches so we had a place to sit other than our work table. It was just so wonderful to be sprawled across the couch with the two of them that night, my head in Ad’s lap, my feet in W’s, watching television together (my favorite show, Madame Secretary.) To have made dinner with Ad earlier in my kitchen – I haven’t had a kitchen of my own in years – and to sit down to eat with them both, talking about our day and our projects. To make us hot cider-and-cinnamon-schnapps drinks to watch TV with, and brownie sundaes later. And then, after Mme Secretary and The Good Wife were over, to go play WoW with Ad for a half hour while W stayed put on the couch to watch something else.
It made it all real.
It felt like all the years prior to this I’d been holding my breath, waiting for this to happen.
Except that isn’t true, not by a long shot. I have been living my life – fully and completely and without “waiting” for anything – all along, because I never expected this to happen. It wasn’t even a pipe dream. I may have thought about it from time to time, maybe even wished for it (Okay, wished really, really hard for it), but I never believed it could happen, for real. At least before it did, in November of this past year.
Last night was the first time in a month that I’ve slept at the condo. It was weird, and kind of sad, and filled me with gratitude that we did this, that we are here, now. At work all day, all I could think about was going home.
Such an amazing, meaningful word!
But I have so many ideas and plans and projects to get to, so many things to do, that even as I am energized and excited, sometimes I am overwhelmed by it all as well. Even one night away felt like lost time; time better spent working on the house. It’s made me a social hermit, reluctant to go out of an evening for longer than it takes to get dinner, and when I or we do get out to see friends or attend a party (which hasn’t happened since we’ve closed on the house) I am constantly checking my mental watch, thinking about the project I should be working on, trying to enjoy myself but feeling anxious and fretful.
Because time is a-wasting; I’ve got stuff to do, and a limited amount of time to do it in: our new “full move-in” date is now February 7th (having been pushed back twice now.) But I’m ready to pack up and clean out the condo for good now, after having stayed there last night: I don’t miss it, and I don’t want to go back.
Truth-to-tell, though, I wasn’t supposed to be moved in at the house at all yet. We agreed that we’d “plan” to move 6 – 8 weeks after the closing, taking that time to get things done to the place before we moved in all our furniture, etc. Even W, who was the strongest proponent of “don’t rush,” realized that wasn’t going to work, though, and that living here – at least in a “partial” move-in – made more sense logistically. He doesn’t have to go back and forth to his house every day and I am 30 minutes closer to work, which means I have that much more time to be working on projects.
It’s also contributed greatly to progress in other ways, as living here we have been able to see how the house really suits us, and what is going to work (or not.)
We have a long way to go, but we’ve also made enormous progress.
Physical progress on the house.
Interpersonal progress in figuring out our roles in this new living arrangement; in our relations to each other as partners and housemates.
Personal progress in finding our way slowly back to kink and a sex life again.
Domestic progress in evaluating our living space and making decisions for best use; in making financial decisions.
I’d like to talk about the kinky stuff – there have, after all, been a couple of playful paddling sessions, and some discussion of what kink might look like for us in the future – but there’s not really enough of it yet to talk about. Also, I don’t want to jinx things, or push, or be ungrateful or greedy. Things will happen when they will. And meantime…
There’s the house!
There’s a lot of progress being made. Building, painting, scraping, sanding, hammering, planning…
We even have an (almost) finished living room.
Not complete yet (need to figure out drapes and get our furniture moved in) but at least we have a place to sit now besides the breakfast room table and chairs.
Oh, and yes, that is me painting in a ball gag. I did say we were having a little bit of fun, didn’t I?
And, yes, we have had a few naps, cuddles, lots of laughter and a beautiful sunrise or two.