I went away to Pennsylvania this weekend. Because I have a house there now. And it only took me about six months of dealing with bureaucracies, and drinking myself to sleep on some occasions, but it happened. I’m not moving, as this will be an investment property. So, I’ll still be your girl from Brooklyn.
But I have a house now, and it feels weird. Because legally speaking it’s mine, but technically speaking it’s owned by a bank who gave me mortgage, and a certain time frame to make it work, and call it mine. Until I pay it off, or fuck up royally, and end up in a foreclosure. Because nothing makes homeownership feeling better than thoughts of a foreclosure. Also, natural disasters, and financial collapses, and, of course, an ever present chance of a zombie apocalypses. Because these things could happen, people.
Anyway. I guess I’m allowing myself to feel hopeful for the time being. And I had to drive down this weekend for some homeownership related business that I have a feeling will never end. In retrospect, a world travel adventure might have been a better idea. Or sitting home in pajamas doing nothing, or a giant gummy bear…anything else, really. But I decided to make an adult, and reasonable investment decision. And it feels adult and reasonable, and like I have no clue of what I’m doing.
But I really do like this house a lot. It’s located right on the bank of a river. And this bit ended up costing me an extra $1,200 a year for the flood insurance. But at least now I’ll get to sit down, gaze dreamily at the river, think about life values, and that this exact moment is costing me an extra $1,200 a year. Philosophical accommodations are expensive, as it turns out.
Piece of river. With a $1,200 price tag.
Regardless. I do have a feeling of accomplishment. And I thought it wouldn’t be fare if I haven’t shared it with you. Also, mortgage companies are evil, but if you’re stubborn just enough that evil stands no chance. Also, I now apparently have a ton of advice on the process, so feel free.
About Pennsylvania. I’ve been to this state quite a lot. Because for us New Yorker’s (especially of the immigrant origins) it’s like the place to ‘go and be with nature’. In all honestly, it’s nice and relaxing. But it’s also slow. The pace of life is a lot slower. And that’s really the reason we go, but that’s also the reason that sets me off. Because I’m not used to friendly people, who legitimately ask about your life, and stop to listen to your responses. Because that’s just weird, and who has the time for that anyway. People in Pennsylvania have the time for that.
It’s good to go away. It’s especially better, if you feel like coming back home. Like you’re not done with this chaos. And you’re ready for it to sweep you off your feet, turn upside down, hit your head on the bottom, and spit you off into the dry land, full of misery, and excitement.
I guess, I’m not done with this chaos, just yet.