Home ownership is a wonderful, exhausting, challenging privilege. With skyrocketing real estate prices and the crippling cost of living, I’m so thankful to be where we are. Yet had I known the tribulations my husband Jeremy and I would face, I might’ve thought twice about taking the plunge!
There are endless things to worry about. This water on the floor – how did it get here? Is it a spill from a clumsy child, or is the roof leaking? Do I have to climb into the dusty attic to investigate? Or can I just ignore the problem and hope an actual adult will take care of it? I would take the latter, but Jeremy’s very responsible. He’d be up in the rafters with a flashlight, while I’d be hiding under a blanket eating chocolate. I may look like a grown-up, but I’m still an immature teenager inside. Someone will call me “ma’am” soon, and my last flame of adolescence will sputter out.
Basic maintenance is never ending. That garden you want to enjoy needs to be weeded, and that lush, warm grass needs to be mowed. Forget about reading in your lawn chair – angry hornets live there now! Even simple tasks are Sisyphean. Jeremy was going to install a rain gutter on the shed, and to do that he needed the ladder. The ladder was in the garage, trapped behind his car. The car couldn’t move because he took the engine out. He took the engine out to repair it. So, a small installation job snowballed into a complete engine overhaul and garage cleanout. No wonder the “Honey Do” list is so long!
I miss the irresponsibility of childhood. Wouldn’t it be nice to make a mess without being the one to clean it? Or enjoy a snowfall without having to shovel the sidewalk? In a fit of adolescent rage, I once told my mother that the only reason she had kids was so they could do chores, and she said, “you’re absolutely right”. Seems like she’s having the last laugh.
It might be time for me to grow up, put on high-waisted “mom” jeans, and accept my fate. Home ownership is our dream come true, despite the endless, mundane chores. The garden is begrudgingly weeded, and the lawn is eventually mowed. And when the time is right, I’ll pawn all my chores off onto my kids – just like my mother did to me!
