Growing Pains

Growing up sucks harder than a dehydrated preschooler with a half-empty Capri Sun pouch.

And based on the conversations I've had recently about this realization, the fact that growing up sucks is apparently understood and simultaneously unspoken by everyone over the age of 25.  Thanks for warning us guys.  As if belonging to the lethargic masses of Gen Y wasn't already difficult enough.

I guess, rather than brooding, I could explain where all this angst is coming from.  Recently, Molly and I began searching for our first home together.  We naively assumed that we could acquire a beautiful, move-in ready starter home for about fifty-thousand dollars less than what informed, rational, educated adult people already knew we would need to spend but failed to mention to either of us.

Needless to say, our initial search was quite terrifying.

We started looking with the first agent that listed his number on a hand-written realty sign (red flag #1) in the yard of a property which we now refer to as the "fight club" house.  The smell inside the home was so toxic that I'm fairly certain it would disintegrate a Febreeze can on contact.  Without a doubt, the fetid odors leaking from that house are responsible for the growing hole in the ozone layer and should be dealt with by the U.S. government accordingly.

There were rotting wooden boards nailed haphazardly to random walls throughout the house, and the doorways were latched with rusty locks, most likely to keep out (or in) whatever animal had previously lived there.  The carpet was stained in what appeared to be some combination of blood and stomach bile, and the sheetrock had deep, Freddy Krueger-like claw markings from floor to ceiling.  We didn't even make it past the living room before abandoning hope and fleeing the house to prevent further lung damage.

The best part of the story?  Our so-called realtor, after it was all said and done, informed us in an almost hopeful tone, "It might need a little work." A little work.  The house that could cause cancer if viewed in direct sunlight and has no living plant life around it in a half-mile radius "might" need a "little" work. Really.

But hey, at least things could've only gotten better from there, right?  Sadly, no.

The next showing was a pile of ashes. The house had literally been burned down shortly before we arrived.  Embers glowing.  Wet smoke billowing from an empty lot.  God made it clear to us that it was time to change tactics.  That or He really didn't want us buying a house.

Thankfully, He had a plan.  We ditched the dunce and hired a wonderful Christian friend I've known and loved for years.  With her assistance and a few weeks of pleasantly odored showings (for the most part), we found "the one," the house we wanted to start our lives together in.  Before we knew it, we were sitting crosslegged in the floor of our soon-to-be living room signing paperwork.

Agreements, offers, disclosures, some stuff I wasn't even sure what it meant (don't kill me, Mrs. Shoffner). Every piece of paper I initialed, I mistakenly thought, got us closer to the romanticized outcome in my head where Molly and I would soon be picking paint colors and placing furniture in this flawless house of our dreams.

Instead, here we are a week and a half later, and I'm still signing paperwork, negotiating terms, and asking for repairs on a house I assumed was perfect.  I'm filled with uncertainty not knowing what will turn up in each new inspection, not knowing if the next repair will wind up being the straw that breaks the camel's back (or the seller's wallet, in this case).

I can't pretend that I'm not overwhelmed or scared making one massive decision after another.  I won't act like I don't miss the days when my most difficult decision was Captain Crunch or Fruit Loops.  New expenses are popping up every day, chipping away at my bank account and absolutely terrifying me.  Even now, I find myself just as worried as I was leaving the fight club house almost three months ago.

But in the end, my gratitude outweighs my burden.  I'm so thankful God has brought us so far from where we were.  I'm thankful that we're weeks from closing on a wonderful home.  I'm thankful I have the ability to purchase and afford a home at all.  I'm thankful that Molly, for whatever reason, still wants to marry me after all this.

And most of all, I'm thankful that I'm growing up...even if it really, REALLY sucks sometimes.