Dear Internet-Diary-Slash-Brain-Shavings-Collector, maybe I should share in this space that on Monday we closed on the house.

The house, yeah, that house I was wringing my hands about last month. One and the same.

What happened was that the beau and I kinda liked the house, and nothing that happened during the inspection was enough to make us dislike the house. So we just kept plodding along until one sunny afternoon we took an elevator twelve stories up and sat down at a shiny mahogany-finished table opposite the seller, a bowl of miniature Twix and Skittles between us, and we signed eleven bajillionty forms that basically said we are financially fucked forever and eternity, amen.

I make it sound so glamorous, I know.

I am happy, but it all seems so Big and Serious and Responsible. I’ve had a knot in my stomach all week just thinking about the fact that there is now a pile of lumber and brick sitting in northeast Denver with our names all over it, and that we are answerable for its care. We finally got the house keys on Wednesday — because of a weird Colorado law, a seller can stay in the home up to 48 hours after the transfer of ownership — and when we went inside I crept about in terrified apprehension. Like my very presence would disturb the air molecules and set off a chain reaction that would result in the walls caving in. Brick and mortar crumpling and disintegrating like a water-soaked tissue.

Houses are so tender and frail, you guys.

I think one thing that’s holding me back from being properly thrilled is the sheer amount of work in front of us. This house is a fixer, guys. To start we need to:

  • Scrape popcorn ceilings in two front rooms, entryway, and upstairs hallway
  • Rip out carpeting on entryway and stairs
  • Scrape vinyl tile under carpet in entryway
  • Repair/replace hardwood floors
  • Tear out two walls
  • Open up a drywalled-over window in the kitchen
  • Rearrange the kitchen and sort out new counters and appliances
  • Repair the built-in shelving in the dining area
  • Fix up the stairs
  • Replace the broken tile around the fireplace
  • Repair uneven walls
  • Paint every closet, ceiling, and wall
  • Add crown moulding
  • Fix the grading and downspouts
  • Rip out two trees that are growing too close to the foundation

That is just phase 1, too. There are so many more things to do in phase 2, including a total yard overhaul, building a garage, and renovating the bathrooms.

Pride will grow with every drop of blood, sweat, and tears spilled on this place, I’m sure. For now, though, I am tenuous; lurking and stalking the shadows of the property and trembling like a leaf.

We’re moving in at the end of July. Between now and then we’ll be spending every night and weekend at the new place, prepping and scraping and demoing in the summer swamp heat.

Wish me luck?