This is the view we have right now as we turn into our street. This is what welcomes us home each day. A big, pretty, purple beacon.
When we bought our “future dream home” five years ago, it just felt so right. I knew it would one day be ours the first time I stood in the back yard. That open-for-inspection seems like yesterday. My Bestie arrived for a sticky-beak and I recall telling her that I simply had to have this house. I shouted it across the yard and Hubby elbowed me quite hard, urging me to put on my game face in case the real estate agent was nearby.
We were living in Sydney at the time, so we hired a buyer’s agent to represent us. Even though we were far away, on the morning of the auction I could barely breathe. I had a very strong urge to distract myself by vacuuming – something that has not happened before or since. But then, ah, the sweet joy of success! (Followed by the anticlimax of four and a half years of renting it out during what felt like the longest lay-by in history.)
But we are here now!!
It is an old Queenslander with all its walls in the wrong places. I spend my days searching for the kids, especially when they are quiet. If I don’t have a clear visual, hands are shoved in toilets, furniture is drawn on, highly irregular food preparation takes place…
Yep – this house is a haven for Mischief. It is also apparently facing the wrong way, is hot in summer and cold in winter, and is directly underneath a flight path (which is quite fun if you’re 1 and love plane spotting, but not so good when you have to press pause every three minutes during the 5th season of Mad Men).
We met with our new architect last Friday. “Please create our dream home!” we said, handing over our list of requirements and a link to our Pinterest account. “No problem”, said our architect. “That will cost you approximately one squillion dollars. Maybe more. But definitely not less.”
The next day, we felt we should look around and see what one squillion dollars would get us if we were to sell up and buy another house. Quite a bit, it seems…
But then we came home. We turned the corner and our house shouted its big, purply hello.
We walked up the front path, past the garden beds whose earth I have spent the last month lovingly tilling in preparation for some serious vegetable growing.
And we decided: this is our patch.
We won’t be spending a squillion dollars on it. At least not today. But we like our tiny little piece of the world, and we shall stick by it. It may be a sweltering hot, freezing cold, mischief-loving money pit, but it will be good to us – I just know it. Plus, it smells like porridge and honey….